


You'll Never Take Me Alive

by Natileroxs



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, Mindless Self Indulgence (Band), My Chemical Romance, Palaye Royale (Band), Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - Black Parade, Car Accidents, Coma, Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, Illnesses, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Black Parade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 03:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 52,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natileroxs/pseuds/Natileroxs
Summary: On Halloween, Mikey's brother died at a funeral.How fucking convenient.Far in the distance, The Black Parade begins to march.-Mix onSpotify - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2z4wlXMALQjRqbJwMrPVo0?si=iS593v9gTZG2SuecWVw6-gYoutube - https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLNsyIFmYjAfqEtb9s5H3qcULCn9vmKPMK(being constantly updated. end of each chapter will have the songs that correspond)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Looking for beta
> 
> The spacing on this fic, and all my other fics, is off due to me using google docs, so I am in the middle of fixing them. It is still readable, but the spacing is a little annoying.
> 
> Main songs for the fic  
Kill All Your Friends - My Chemical Romance  
My Way Home Is Through You - My Chemical Romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this for a while, but...
> 
> HOLY FUCK MCR IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> So, I had to.
> 
> (Edit: Spacing has been fixed)

**October 2009**

When Mikey thinks back to the events that happened that day, October 31st, he curses himself for not noticing the things that were important. He might’ve been eleven, but that’s not actually that young. 

Maybe he was just distracted? Possibly. He’d been thinking of Halloween, of trick or treating with his elder brother. Instead, they’d been dragged off to a funeral of some distant family member they hadn’t met. 

At least Grandma was there, Mikey thinks. She made the whole thing a lot more bearable. So did Gerard, who stuck close to his side the whole time. 

Unfortunately, that was one of the worst days of his life. And that’s not an exaggeration. He’s had four awful, absolutely painful days in his life. October 31st 2009, well… that was the first. 

“You okay, Gee?” Mikey whispers into his brother’s ear as they sit beside each other on the front steps of the church, waiting to go home. His brother had mumbled something about a stomach ache during the service but hadn’t complained again. Mikey frowns when his brother doesn’t respond. “Gee?”

“Huh?” His brother, Gerard, is fourteen, and in Mikey’s eyes, that makes him the coolest person ever. Because he’s an actual teenager and a really cool one too. He loves comic books and horror movies and music. He even said he’d buy Mikey his first guitar when he saved up enough money. 

“I said, are you okay? You feel any better?”

“Not really.” Gerard frowns, placing the back of his hand against his own forehead. “Shit… I think I have a fever.” 

Mikey notices now that Gerard’s gone really pale. He doesn’t complain very often, so it’s usually really hard to tell when he’s sick unless he’s _really _sick. 

“You want me to get Grandma. She could take us home.”

He nods slowly and Mikey runs off. Their grandmother lingers beside their parents, and she turns to greet him when he runs up to them. 

“Gee isn’t feeling well…” He says and his mom sighs. 

“Can you take them home, Elena…”

Elena shakes her head softly but agrees to. She places her hand on Mikey’s shoulder and gets him to lead her in the direction where Gerard is. 

He looks even worse than when Mikey left, shivering but also sweating up a storm. He’s got one arm wrapped around himself to keep warm, and his other is fanning his face from heat. Elena takes one look at him, seizes his arm, and pulls him up. Gerard stumbles a little but they walk in relative normality. Until Gerard suddenly stops dead in place. And then… 

Drops. 

He hits the ground without a sound. Not a single cry, whimper, or shout. The sight of his brother lying, face first, in the grass of the cemetery, in front of a plain, white church, makes him sick and haunts him for the rest of his life. 

Mikey rushes to his side, as does his grandmother and several others. Elena shakes him gently, and then roughly, Mikey pulling at his brother’s arm uselessly. His mom runs over to them, crying out, and gets on her knees, pulling her eldest son into her arms as she checks for any signs of life. He thinks someone is calling 911, but Mikey just focuses on his brother’s limp hand and how hard his mother is holding onto Gerard. There are tears rolling down his mother’s face and his father and grandmother quickly drag him away from the chaos. 

* * *

From then on, the 31st of October becomes the first of four awful days in his life. 

Frank is turning 10 today. His birthday, which is on freaking _Halloween _how cool is that, is full of dark clouds and thunder rolling in the sky. He loves it. 

His mom makes him a cake and he blows out every single candle before smiling up at her. Then he eats his slice, runs to his room, finds his trick or treating basket, and letting his mother fill it up for him. He’s not allowed to go outside this close to winter, because he gets sick really easily. But his mother tries really hard to make it up to him. She gives him all sorts of candy, as well the medication he’s always supposed to take. 

Sometimes it makes him feel dizzy or tired, so he takes it last. Then he goes to bed full and sleepy. 

He takes his basket into his room, tossing pieces of candy into his mouth as he goes. He sits on his bed, his favourite horror movie already set up and ready to go. Before he can press start, he hears movement out his window. Deciding it’s just the wind, he starts the film and relaxes back on his bed with the candy. 

He falls asleep without taking the pills and is awoken two hours later by more scuffling at his window. The movie is over, him having missed a large portion of it, but he can’t find it in himself to be disappointed. He’s watched it over a hundred times, he knows every word to it. Anyway, the noise from outside is more interesting. 

Or terrifying, take your pick. He decides he’s going to do the stupid thing, the thing that gets people killed in horror movies, and goes over to the window, peering out. A dark shape is crouched down outside, eyes looking up at him. He freezes, making eye contact. He then stumbles back to his bed. The window cracks open and he goes pale because of course, he forgot to lock his window. 

It slides all the way up and the dark shape comes the whole way into his room. He gulps, unable to move as fear keeps him paralysed on the spot. He watches as the dark shape walks right up to him, staring down at him. He gazes up, his mouth dry and eyes wide, and doesn’t even get the chance to scream. 

The pain never hits him, instead, dizziness and nausea do. He drops to the ground, sticky, wet liquid staining his t-shirt and old jeans. Maybe not changing into his pyjamas was a good idea. He doesn’t particularly want to die in something that embarrassing. 

He doesn’t particularly want to die in the first place. 

Doesn’t get a choice though, does he?

Gerard blinks his eyes open, reaching up to cling on to something, his hair maybe? He tugs and yeah, that’s his hair. It’s hanging in front of his face, the greasy black locks feeling familiar and comforting. The sky is grey and broken buildings litter the skyline. He stumbles to his feet, thankful that the fever he’d been feeling before has left him. Actually… all his sickness has left him. 

What he doesn’t understand is why. And… where is he? He was in that cemetery, right? With his grandma and brother. They were supposed to be going home. And then he woke up here. Did he blackout? Did the world end? 

“Grandma?! Mikey?!” He calls out, the sound echoing into the distance. He looks around, beginning to walk towards the cluster of buildings and away from the empty white expanse behind him. He’s not sure where he is, but he hopes that he’ll be able to find someone to tell him what’s going on. 

* * *

He’s fourteen, but he feels so much younger and so much older at the same time. He’s scared, he knows, but he also feels responsible for getting himself out of here. He knows he needs to find his way home, and he knows that he’ll need to ask _someone _for help. 

“Hello?” He calls out. No one answers. He keeps walking. It’s not cold, but it’s not warm either. There’s no wind blowing at him, but the air doesn’t feel still. 

It’s weird. 

He kicks at the dirt, scuffing up his nice shoes. He’s still wearing the black suit and pants that he was forced into for the funeral. It’s probably over now. His parents are probably looking for him, worried about him. Mikey too, god, Mikey must be so worried now. He’s only eleven and he acts like _he’s _the older brother. 

He keeps walking. His mom would be crying, probably. Or she’d be scowling, with crossed arms while others rooted around the area. 

He’s a missing person, and that scares him. People will be looking for him. Maybe the people in this city he’s walking towards might help him get in contact with them. 

He keeps walking. There’s more rubble now, and he’s unsure if that’s a good thing. It means he’s getting closer to the city, to civilisation, but that brings up a whole lot of questions. Like, what is he going to ask? What if there’s no one in the city, what if it’s deserted? That would be just his luck, wouldn’t it? 

He keeps walking, but he can see people now, all pale and wearing black, grey, white. He’s going to have to get used to the sheer void of colour in this place, isn’t he. It’s not dull, though. You would think that, wouldn’t you? If everything’s in greyscale, it would be boring. No, it’s actually interesting. The tones contrast beautifully. He could paint this, he thinks. It might even be good enough to send to a gallery or something like that. 

People begin to crowd around him. He keeps walking. His legs, oddly enough, aren’t getting tired. Not just yet. The people around him stare, but as soon as he looks their way, their eyes dart towards their feet. He sighs and stops in place. None of them move. 

“Hello? Can you help me? Any of you?” They don’t respond, simply staring at their feet, taking peeks at him when they think he’s not looking. “I-I need help. Can you… can you please help me. Please.” He pleads. They keep their heads down. 

He starts walking again. 

There’s an abandoned float sitting in the centre of the city. It’s covered in red flowers. 

_Red _flowers. He’s so happy to see the colour that the people looking at their feet and crowding around him don’t bother him anymore. He keeps walking. 

He reaches the float quickly, clambering up onto it without really knowing why. He settles down on top of it, his legs hanging off the edge. The people stop about a foot away from the float, standing still with their heads still down. He bites his lip, willing the tears that prick at his eyes to go away. 

He can’t cry here, not in front of all these people. So he wipes his eyes and, instead, stares up at the sky. It’s more of a light grey here, unlike the dark grey from before. He’s not sure which one he prefers. He’d rather a blue sky, honestly, but he knows he won’t get one, so he decides he rather the darker sky. It reminds him of the stormy nights when Mikey used to sneak into his room because he was scared. And he would sleep on Gerard’s floor or in Gerard’s bed, just to be near his brother, to feel safe. 

Tears start sliding down Gerard’s face without his permission. He curses the things, moving his gaze towards the buildings. They’re old, abandoned, semi-apocalyptic. He recognises places that could have been a bar, a butcher, a supermarket, a dress shop, a bakery. Even an antique shop with old furniture that pokes out of the windows. 

He curls up in a ball on the float, no longer caring what his audience thinks. He just wants to go home. 

“You can’t.” A hand settles itself on his shoulder and he jumps, looking up. A girl is there, wearing a black top with collar, no sleeves, and white stripes crossing the front like an old military jacket alongside a black skirt. His head darts to where the words came from and standing there is another girl who looks very similar. Twins. 

“Who… who are you?” 

“I’m Fear.” The girl who spoke first, the one on his right, says. 

“I’m Regret.” The other girl says. He frowns. Those aren’t real names, are they? No matter, at least they’re talking to him. He wants to ask them so many questions, so he spits out the first one that comes to mind. 

“Why don’t they respond to me? What did I do?”

“Nothing.” Regret settles her hand in his hair, running it through her spindly fingers.

“Why don’t they-”

“Ask a different question,” Fear demands and he frowns at her. Regret continues to run her hand through his hair. 

“I want to go home. Can you help me?”

“I said before, you can’t.” Fear sets her hand on top of his head as well, but her grip in his hair is much more forceful. “Next question.” She tugs at his hair roughly when he doesn’t immediately respond. 

“Where am I?”

“Where do you think you are, Leader?” Regret asks softly.

“Leader?” He mumbles in confusion. 

“Answer her question, Leader.” Fear tugs at his hair again and he winces. 

“I don’t know.” Gerard brings his knees back up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “Tell me… please?”

“This is the afterlife,” Regret hums.

“For some,” Fear clarifies. The colour drains from his face. The… afterlife? Is he…  
  
“I’m dead?”

“Yes, darling,” Regret says as she leans in, pressing her face into his dark locks. Fear pulls his hair again, tugging his head away from Regret. She huffs in annoyance. 

“_Next question _.” 

Gerard’s eyes leak with tears. “Why do you… you call m-me…” He hiccups. Fear pulls at his hair again and he struggles to get the rest of his question out. “L-leader?”

“You are the Leader. You didn’t know that?”

“N-no…” 

“The prophecy declares you the Leader. You are one of the five that will guide us to a better world.” Regret runs her hands down his neck, down his left arm, down his chest. He shifts uncomfortably.

“Me?” He whispers. 

“Yes,” Fear says curtly before moving forward, grasping his chin roughly, and making him face her. She then presses her lips to his forehead and he gulps. 

“He will be here soon. You will not be alone for long.”

* * *

“He? Who?”

“The Rhythmist. He will talk to you. He’s not like them,” Regret hisses, wrapping her arms around his waist, pushing his legs back down to hang off the float. He frowns again and Fear quickly grabs Regret’s arms, tugging her away when Gerard’s movements don’t do anything. 

“Goodbye, Leader,” Regret bids him. “I will find you soon.”

He doesn’t respond. He just curls up again and begins sobbing. He… he can’t be dead. He just had a fever. That was all. He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead. He…

“I can’t be dead!” He screams and every single one of the people drop to their knees, covering their ears as he cries. He keeps repeating the words in his head and aloud, running his hands through his hair and sobbing harder as he pulls it until it hurts. He keeps screaming and screaming until his voice is hoarse and then falls onto his side, crying himself into an uneasy slumber. 

Frank is scared. He prays that everything that just happened was just a dream, that he wasn’t actually stabbed and that he didn’t actually die. He wakes up to a grey sky and broken highrises in the skyline. He stumbles towards them, every step a struggle. 

He wants his mom. He wants his warm room and his old blankets and his TV with his favourite movie playing. He wants his life back. 

He doesn’t want to be dead. 

But he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t make a noise. He just keeps walking. He keeps walking until a hand rests on his shoulder, pulling him back. He looks up and freezes. It’s a woman, with light blonde hair, long and frizzy. She wears a corset and a black dress with puffy shoulders and sheer sleeves. There’s a black metal cage hanging over her white skirt. None of that bothers him. No. It’s the gas mask that does. It hides her face, a long breathing tube hanging from the mouthpiece. 

It makes him feel ill. Her hands are uncovered, black nails visible, gently clamped on his shoulders. He makes a face at her that he thinks is irritation, but is probably just fear. She seems to sigh behind her gas mask. 

**“You.”** Her voice is distorted, he thinks he doesn’t quite hear her right. **“Rhythmist.”**

He frowns in confusion. Her hands begin to massage his shoulders. 

**“Go, boy, go.”**

She lets go of his shoulders and he begins to walk away. 

She disappears from sight.

He keeps walking. 

The city comes closer. 

He keeps walking. 

He notices that his feet are hidden in boots he doesn’t remember wearing when he was killed. He doesn’t even remember owning them. 

He keeps-

Wait. Something’s going on. There’s a crowd in the middle of the street, the broken towers casting broken shadows. They all cover their ears, and some are even crying, but all their faces are blank. He walks towards the middle and people part without hesitation. A float sits in the middle of the street, covered in red flowers. 

A boy, maybe a few years older than him, lies on top of it, curled up. The crowd stare up at the boy. 

Frank turns back around and shouts at the crowd. “Go away!”

They stare at him now. He crosses his arms and thinks of what all the older kids say. 

“Fuck off.”

They do just that. They disperse. He clambers up onto the float, struggling at first due to his meagre height. He crawls over to the boy, shaking his shoulders. The boy stiffens, rolls over, and gets on his hands and knees, staring at him. Frank shrugs. 

“Hey.”

The boy’s face crumbles as he takes in the world around him. “I… I thought…”

Frank waits. 

“I thought this was a dream. I was… I was hoping it was. I.. I c-can’t b-be d-dead.” 

Frank crawls closer. “I’m sorry.” Frank whispers and the boy suddenly hugs Frank tight. Frank lets himself go and begins to cry, the boy soon following. They both wear themselves out after a few minutes and the boy partially lets go, letting his free hand play with his long, dark hair. Frank’s never seen a boy with long hair, so he reaches over and tugs at it loosely. 

“I’m Gerard…” The boy whispers. “But they call me the Leader.”

Frank nods. “I’m Frank. That woman called me the Rhythmist.”

Gerard lets out a little ‘ah’ noise. “The twins told me you’d be here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter  
Welcome To The Black Parade - My Chemical Romance


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it still doesn't feel real
> 
> (Edit: Spacing has been fixed)

**November 2009**

Funerals are depressing, Mikey finds. Exactly two weeks after he’d attended one, he’s attending another. Except, that one was for someone he didn’t really know. 

This is for someone he knows all too well. 

It’s been two weeks since tragedy struck and he can still hear his mother wailing through the wall every night. He considers buying earplugs just to drown out the sound. He opts to use his headphones at every chance he gets instead, playing his brother’s favourite songs on repeat. He rooted around his brother’s room a week afterwards, snatching up t-shirts, sweaters, CDs, DVDs, sketchbooks, the like. He goes back down half a week later and steals more of the art supplies that will collect dust if they’re left down there, as well as some of the more impressive works of art. He then nicks a few nails from the shed along with a hammer and hangs the framed paintings and the canvases on his wall. 

He hangs up every single one of his brother’s clothes up with such care that even his grandmother began to worry. She sits on his bed as he hangs them up, one by one. He then selects a nice pair of jeans, brand-new black ones that Gerard had picked out himself and begged their mother to buy. Alongside those, he selects an old Green Day shirt and some of Gerard’s best sneakers. 

Mikey refuses to wear what he had at the last funeral, and instead opts for a dark t-shirt and black jeans with his nice shoes and his trusty black coat. He fixes his glasses on his nose and sighs, looking at himself in the mirror. 

Elena comes up beside him, putting her hands on his shoulders. 

“Your brother would be very proud of you.”

He tries not to break down crying. Elena hugs him gently, running her fingers through his hair. 

“It’ll be okay, Mikey. One day you’ll see him again.” 

Mikey scrubs at his eyes, getting rid of all the tears. He then curls into his grandmother, thinking of his brother and his dark hair and smile and warm embrace. 

The funeral, as always, is boring. He doesn’t listen to half of the words about how he’s ‘still here in our hearts’ and that ‘he’s in a better place’ because no, he’s not. He’ll never learn to drive, never kiss a girl or boy, Mikey may be eleven and he may have looked up to Gerard, but Gerard had definitely not had his first kiss. He won’t graduate, get married, buy a house, get a job. 

Gerard deserved to live, god damn it. He didn’t deserve to die. 

Soon enough, Elena guides him up to the front, where he determinedly stares down at the floor. His grandmother places her hand on his shoulder and he starts, voice shaking. 

“Hi… uh… my name is Michael. Gerard… Gerard was my big brother, and he’s always been the most important person in my life. I’ve always looked up to him, and I will always miss him.” He sniffles and Elena leads him back to his spot by his parents. He curls up with his knees on against his chest, burying his face in his knees. 

The service continues and soon enough, Elena is urging him up towards the coffin. Towards his brother. 

He looks nice, in his brand new denim jacket that he’d gotten from Elena, along with the clothes Mikey had picked out for him. His lips aren’t smiling nor frowning, and it dawns on him that he’ll never see his brother smile again. 

Ever again. 

He wipes his eyes again, curling his arms around his waist. “Can… Can I go home now, Grandma?” He whispers. She runs her hand through his hair and steers him towards the exit. His mother reaches out to stop them, but a single word from Elena and she’s backing off. 

Mikey is silent the whole ride home, curled up in the car seat. When he finally gets home, he rushes down to the basement, which used to be Gerard’s room. He climbs into his brother’s bed, the sheets and pillow smelling of charcoal and paint and coffee and the slight smell of cigarettes. It smells exactly how his brother used to smell, and it hurts. It hurts so much. 

He sobs into his brother’s pillow, with his grandmother standing in the doorway, watching him with a worried gaze.

* * *

  
It takes him a while to return to regular life again. He’s been excused from school until the Christmas holidays are over, so he has several weeks to wallow in his own sadness. 

From the autopsy they did, they figured out that Gerard had a rare disease passed down in families. His parents had immediately asked to have Mikey tested, but were told that with Mikey being under the age of thirteen, they won’t be able to find anything indicating he has it. 

That doesn’t stop them from being as fragile with him as possible. 

His mother barely lets him out of the house, and if he leaves, it’s alongside Elena, his mother, or in rare occurrences, his father. 

One day he manages to leave the house by himself, leaving his parents with a note that he’ll be back in half an hour. His grandmother gives him a knowing look while he walks out. He’s wearing one of his brother’s old sweaters, an old pair of jeans, and some new sneakers his mom just bought him for the hell of it. He walks two streets down and then he sits down on the steps to some apartment building. He doesn’t know where he is, he just knows how he can get home so he doesn’t worry too much. 

“Hey, kid.” A voice comes from beside him. He sounds familiar. 

Mikey looks up and the guy is familiar. It’s Ray… Gerard’s old best friend. Uh oh. “Hey, Ray.” Mikey attempts to muster up a smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. Ray raises his eyebrows and it dawns on Mikey that Ray might not know. And Mikey really doesn’t want to be the one to tell him. 

“Mikey? Mikey Way?! Hey man, how’ve you been?” 

Mikey frowns. “No one’s told you yet, have they?” 

Ray’s eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. 

“Told me? Told me what?”

Mikey pats the spot next to him and Ray sits down. Mikey makes a strained face. “I… I don’t know how to tell you this… I wish I didn’t have to tell you this… But… uh… Gerard…” He forces back tears. Ray frowns, worry seeming to ooze from him.

“What’s wrong with Gerard?”

Mikey wipes his eyes. “He’s… uh… he’s dead…” He bites his lip to keep his sobs down. “Sorry…”

Ray simply stares at him before gathering the younger boy in his arms. “Mikey… oh my god… I didn’t… I…” Ray sounds close to tears now as well. Mikey hugs him back, clutching to the older boy with an iron grip.

Ray walks him home before saying something about needing to get home himself. Mikey knows that face. Ray’s going to go home and cry for a good two hours. Mikey can’t do anything though, so he simply hugs him tight again and sends him a smile, telling him he’d ‘see him around’. 

Mikey is determined to help Ray as much as he’s sure Ray will want to help him. 

* * *

“How did you die?” Frank lies back on the float, white guitar resting on his chest. It’s a bit big for him, but he loves it all the same. Gerard lies with the top of his head bumping against Frank’s occasionally, clutching a mic stand in between his fingers just for something to hold. 

Gerard hums in reply. “I don’t know.”

“Seriously?” Frank raises his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, I sorta just… dropped?” Gerard shrugs as best he can while lying on his back. “I had a fever, that much I know. Guess I was really sick.” 

“Damn…” Frank mumbles. “Where were you? School? Home?”

“At a funeral,” Gerard says and then begins to laugh. “How coincidental is that?” 

Frank laughs too. “Fuck, well, at least it’s convenient.” 

Gerard spreads his arms and legs wide. “Yeah… How did you die?”

“Murdered,” Frank says flippantly. “Dunno who did it. I was in my room, woke up in the middle of the night, the guy came in through the window, and stabbed me.”

Gerard cringes. “Did it hurt?”

“Not really. I couldn’t feel it. You? I know how much of a bitch fevers can be.”

“Aren’t you like ten? Why do you swear so much?”

“I just do.” Frank shrugs. “But come on, I asked a question.”

“Jeez, you’re like Fear. Always demanding for me to answer questions. Alright, alright, yes, fevers fucking suck, but most of the time I just felt dizzy and clammy.”

“I get you there. Also, is Fear really like that?”

“Yep.” 

They’re silent for a moment before Frank whispers. “It was my birthday… Halloween, I mean. And… I think it might’ve been my dad who killed me.” 

Gerard frowns. “Why? Why would he…”

“He left when I was like four, mom kicked him out. She’s never told me why. I don’t really know what he looks like, but I can vaguely remember his voice and the guy who killed me… he said… I think he said ‘sorry’.” 

“Sorry?”

“Yeah… dunno why. But, it sounded sorta like him. And… most murders are done by close relatives, you know?”

Gerard reaches out with the hand not clutching the mic stand and uncoordinatedly pats Frank on the head, or more specifically, on the forehead. 

“You think when our loved ones get down here, they’ll be like us or… like them?” Gerard points to people milling about. “‘Cause… I really don’t want my little brother to ignore me like that when he gets down here. And I really don’t want to see him down here for a fucking while.”

Frank smiles. “He’s gotta be a cool guy if you talk about him like that.”

“He is.” Gerard smiles back. “I love him, I basically raised him, you know? He’s three years younger than me.”

“Oh…Is he older than me?” 

“He just turned eleven, in September.”

“What about you?”

“I’d be turning fifteen in April.”

Frank scrunches up his nose. “You’re so much older than me.”

“Not that much…”

“How do you think that works down here? ‘Cause I don’t want to stay ten forever.”

“I don’t want to stay fourteen forever.”

Frank sits up, crossing his arms. His guitar slides down into his lap. “Wait and see I guess.”

Gerard hums in agreement. “Uh-huh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 questions for all you guys
> 
> Where were you when you found out?  
And how did you find out?
> 
> My answers are  
\- On the bus  
\- From a discord chat (We were talking about the Instagram posts as they came out)
> 
> Speaking of discord, I have a server. Bandom, Homestuck, Comics, Buzzfeed Unsolved, Cursed Images. It's a server that'll suddenly go active for a few hours and then die again, rinse and repeat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still can't process it

**** **April 2010**

The first time his birthday passes is the hardest. In the morning, Mikey lies, curled up in his brother’s bed that’s starting to smell less and less like him and more and more like Mikey’s own sweat and tears. His mother is likely to wash them soon, and then all that will be left is the memory. 

He then takes flowers to the cemetery where they buried him, accompanied by Ray, who lets him lean on him and listens as Mikey speaks to the air. 

“Hey… Uh… Hey, Gee. I… I don’t know if you can hear me, but even if you can’t, I’m going to say this anyway. For myself, more than anything. You… you didn’t deserve this. You deserved to live a long life, to go to college, marry, grow old, all that. You…” He can’t continue, breaking down into sobs. Ray wraps his arms around him. Mikey just cries louder. 

The rest of the day, the duo spend reading the comics left behind and listening to all of Gerard’s favourite records, all kept perfectly in their covers. 

His mother makes Gerard’s favourite meal, they eat in silence, and then they curl up together on the couch and fall asleep there. Mikey slips out of his parents grasp at around three in the morning the next day and makes his way back down to the basement, climbing under Gerard’s sheets again. 

He has a feeling this is how all of Gerard’s birthdays are going to go. 

* * *

“Happy Birthday, motherfucker!” Frank cries and Gerard smiles. Fear, Regret, and even Mother War - which they’d only recently found out was her name - join the pair in celebration. “You’re fifteen!”   
  


“Am I?” Gerard frowns. “I’m dead, which means I’m not supposed to age.” He turns to the twins. “Am I?” He repeats. 

“You do age,” Regret says. “You both do. Until The Black Parade has been formed in its entirety, you will both age as you would normally.” 

Frank jumps up in joy. “Hell yeah!” 

Gerard shares a grin with him. “So I really am fifteen.” 

Regret nods. Frank jumps over to sit right next to Gerard. “Yay, I’m not gonna stay ten forever!”   
  


Gerard giggles. “That would be awful, wouldn’t it.”

Frank responds by sticking out his tongue. “Screw you, this is awesome. I’m not gonna let you rain on my parade.”

**“It’s not your parade, boy,”** Mother War interjects. All four of them look surprised. She simply tilts her head in response before speaking once more.  **“It’s his.”**

Frank takes a moment to consider her words before responding. “It’s  _ ours _ , yeah, Gee?”

Gerard nods. “It’s… it’s mine and Frankie’s. And whoever these other guys are.”

“You have a while to wait, darlings,” Regret hums. “The next one’s not due for another couple years.”

“Then they’ll have more time to actually live,” Gerard says as Frank curls up beside him. 

Fear reaches over and pets Frank’s head softly. Then she does the same with Gerard. She then stands. “It’s been nice, sitting with you. But… we must go.” She assists Mother War to her feet, and Regret rises, palm pressing into Gerard’s shoulder. He cringes as she uses him to support her weight as she gains her footing. 

“Goodbye, Leader,” Regret smiles at him, leaning over and kissing him on the top of his head. She then turns and leads Mother War away. Fear pauses before leaving, patting Frank on the head again. 

“It’s okay, Rhythmist. She isn’t neglecting you. She’s just silly.”

Fear then moves away, following her sister. Frank shoots Gerard a look. “What the fuck is wrong with them?”

Gerard simply shrugs. 

* * *

**September 2010**

The new school year is awful. It feels weird to be starting middle school without Gerard and vaguely upsetting. Ray walks him to school and then heads off to his own school, and it hits him that Gerard would be a Sophomore this year. 

All these realisations begin to freak him out, but he calms himself enough to get through his first day. He heads to the park instead of home, where he’s been hanging out with Ray after school. The local high school gets out later than his school does, so he waits on the swings, idly swinging back and forth. 

His eyebrows raise when Ray enters the park followed by a bigger guy with blond hair. Ray waves and the other guy hangs back. 

“Hey, Mikey.”

“Hey, Ray,” Mikey greets back. The blond guy nods at him. 

“Mikey, this is Bob. He’s new in town.” Mikey smiles up at him and Bob holds out his hand. Mikey shakes it awkwardly. 

“Hey, kid.”

Mikey pokes his tongue out. “I’m not a kid.”

  
“Sure act like one,” Bob says but he’s chuckling so he’s obviously joking. Mikey laughs with him and knows that Bob is probably going to be one of his new best friends. 

* * *

**January 2012**

“Do you think he’s watching over us?” Mikey asks Elena and she pats his head gently. 

  
“Of course he is, sweetheart.” She moves her hand and wraps her arm around his shoulders. 

Half the time, he sleeps in his own bed and the other half of the time, he sleeps in Gerard’s. He keeps both rooms clean and every single thing that Gerard owned is kept in peak condition. He’s become a sort of a neat freak about his brother’s stuff, though he couldn’t care less about his own. 

His parents keep buying him new things. From expensive clothes to stacks of comic books and even the guitar Gerard had promised him, they get him anything he could want. 

All he wants is his brother back. 

Ray thinks his room’s pretty cool. Ray’s sixteen now, and Mikey’s thirteen. He tries not to think of how April is creeping up on him again, or that the two year anniversary had cut so deep that it hurt. Seventeen, his brother would’ve been turning. Now he’s eternally fourteen, at least Mikey believes he is. He can’t imagine his brother being the same age as Ray anymore, let alone older. 

One thing that scares him the most is not just turning fourteen, but when he turns fifteen. He’ll have passed his brother. He’ll be  _ older _ than his elder brother. That truly scares him. 

Bob’s fifteen and just like he thought, he’s a cool motherfucker who he became fast friends with. The three of them hang out in his room, barely ever venturing into the basement together. Mikey’s friends understand that he’s not ready for that yet. He’s not ready to share his brother’s place. 

“I wanna… I wanna go visit him,” Mikey whispers and Elena nods, leading him out of the basement. He lets her down there, and he knows his mother goes down there occasionally, but that’s all he allows. He’s very protective over that basement. 

His grandmother drives him to the cemetery and he runs past the spot where his brother fell to his death, past the front steps where Gerard complained that he felt ill, past the place where he asked his grandmother if she could take the pair of them home. 

He runs past all of that and stops when he reaches the grave. It’s a stone slab with some words scribed into it, and wildflowers are beginning to spring from the grass in front. He drops to his knees and just… stares. Elena reaches him not long after, standing but staying right next to him as tears begin to slide down his face. He doesn’t let out a single sob or cry, instead, he is silent. It’s only when he begins to actually whimper that his grandmother uses all her energy to heft him up to his feet. She wraps her arms around him and he cries into her. 

“Oh, baby…”

He turns out of her grip and begins to speak, but not to her. To the grave. To his brother. 

“Hey… Gee… I’m… I’m thirteen, but I told you that already, didn’t I. On Halloween, I think. Or maybe before that? I’m not sure. Well… nothing really new has been happening. It’s a cold January, you know. The basement is warmer than my room upstairs, so I sleep in it. I hope you don’t mind. I pray you don’t mind.”

“Uh… okay! Well, I hope you’re okay if anything. Up there, or wherever. I don’t know where you are, but I hope you’re in heaven, or something like that. I… I hope you’re happy, I guess…”

He bites his lip again and turns away. “I… I don’t know when I’ll be back… but it might be a while. So… until then… goodbye.”

He begins to walk away and then he pauses, turning back around as Elena follows. 

He cries himself to sleep that night.

* * *

**September 2012**

Mikey has a quiet birthday, where he spends it with Ray in the basement. Bob was off with his parents overseas, something about his dad’s work in politics or some other bullshit. He’d left Mikey with an awesome birthday present, a brand new leather jacket that is a little big on Mikey. Bob said he’d ‘grow into it’ and Mikey agreed that he probably would. 

It’s also his  _ fourteenth _ birthday. For most, that wouldn’t be a massive thing. Fourteen isn’t like thirteen or sixteen or eighteen or twenty-one. It’s not a big birthday. For most people at least. 

For him, it marks him reaching the same age his brother was. And eternally will be. His parents worry more than ever, but he waves off every single one of their  _ “are you okay?”  _ and  _ “do you feel sick?” _ and  _ “tell us if you’re ever not feeling well” _ . He feels fine. Physically at least. 

“I really wish we could drink,” Mikey hums. “Well, I mean, we could but… we probably shouldn’t.”

“How would we even get alcohol?” Ray asks and Mikey shrugs.

  
  
“My parents probably have some. Somewhere.” 

Ray laughs. “No, Mikey. I’m not letting you drink. What would your brother think?” He pauses, worried he’d hit a nerve, but Mikey just smiles. 

“He’d probably be the one giving it to me, honestly.” Mikey spreads his palms out on his bedsheets, leaning back. “Fuck, I wish he was here to see this.”

“Me too, Mikey.” Ray shuffles closer, wrapping his arm around the younger boy. “But, I think he’d be proud that you’ve made it this far.” 

“That we both have. Fuck, you were his best friend, Ray. You two were so fucking close and you didn’t even get to go to the funeral.” Mikey lets his head flop onto Ray’s shoulder. Ray shrugs. 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

Mikey sends him a frown. “Yes, it does.”

“If I’d been told, I probably wouldn’t have gone. It wouldn’t have felt right. People wouldn’t have wanted me there.”

Mikey pulls away. “You were his  _ best friend _ , if anyone told you to leave, I’m sure me and grandma would have put up the biggest fucking fight.”

Ray chuckles. “I guess you’re right. But we’ll never know, will we?” Mikey shuffles back to him, curling his arms around Ray’s waist as Ray wraps his arms around Mikey’s shoulder. 

“How does it feel to be fourteen?” Ray asks after a few moments of silence. Mikey smiles into Ray’s chest. 

“Weird. I keep going to say I’m thirteen, it’s going to take some getting used to.”

Ray pats him on the head. “That happens every time you hit a birthday.” 

“Guess so.” Mikey then lifts his head and stares up at Ray, keeping eye contact as his face inches closer. Ray seems to visibly gulp at this and Mikey leans up even further, pressing their lips together. Ray’s grip tightens as he presses back into the kiss, and they stay like that for a few seconds before breaking apart. 

Mikey smiles up at him. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” 

Ray gives him a small smile before frowning. “But you’re… You’re fourteen, Mikey. I’m seventeen. There are three years between us. This…”

Mikey huffs in annoyance. “That’s just it, isn’t it. We’re only three years apart. When I’m twenty, you’ll be twenty-three. Everyone’ll be fine with it then, so why not now?”

Ray blushes but nods and Mikey kisses him again. 

* * *

**November 2012**

The first of November in 2012 is the second of the four worst days of his life. And the main reason is because he’s awoken by his parents creeping into his room, shaking him awake, and speaking in quiet, careful voices about the fact that Ray was in an accident. 

He doesn’t emerge from his bed all day. He gets twelve missed calls from Bob, but he can’t bear to move except to cry. 

When he dies, he’s going to punch God in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Chemical Romance are actually coming to New Zealand and I might be getting tickets, so I'm really excited. 
> 
> On a more upsetting note, I just finished high school for good and it's really sad, so I'm writing more of this. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

**October 2012**

Ray doesn’t remember anything after a loud cry and darkness. 

They crashed, didn’t they? Does that mean he’s in the hospital? Was he knocked unconscious? 

He blinks his eyes open and finds the sky to be grey. He can smell ash and there’s a skyline of crumbling highrises in his field of vision. Okay, so either he’s in a coma or he’s dead. Neither conclusion is a nice one, but those are the two most obvious ones so he’s going to work with them. 

He starts walking. He finds himself drawn towards the towers, like two magnets pulling at each other. He climbs over rubble, keeping the towers in his line of sight.

He keeps walking, though he’s not sure how long for. The dirt is making his old, beaten up trainers become more and more beaten up. But, at least he has them, in this little world. He’s sure he’d end up stabbing himself in the foot with something if he wasn’t wearing them. 

He keeps walking. He doesn’t feel the pain he thought he would be, seeing as he’d been in a fucking car crash. 

That second conclusion is looking a bit more plausible than the first right now and that scares him. He keeps walking. 

There are people all around, but they’re almost a blur. They blend into each other, a mass of faces with their eyes glued to the ground. They surround a float which is covered in red flowers, the first ounce of colour he’s seen here. He pauses, staring up at it, and then staring up at the two figures atop it. 

One is incredibly short, with dark hair that hangs a bit above his shoulders. The figure next to him is taller, older, yet still young. His hair is also long and dark, but there’s a certain greasy quality to it that the other boy doesn’t have. 

The older boy stops, gazing at him. He then leaps off the float running towards Ray, fast and wild. He jumps Ray, wrapping his arms around the curly-haired man and burying his face in Ray’s shoulder. 

Ray isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. Here is a boy who he’s never met, hugging him tightly, and he’s probably dead and nothing makes sense anymore. 

“Ray!” The boy cries out, pulling away only slightly. Ray can’t even get a look at him before the boy pulls away sharply, hitting him on the arm in a way that seems both irritated and caring. “What in the actual fuck are you doing down here?!” The boy scolds. Without Ray noticing, the smaller boy has joined them on the ground, though he hangs back a little, strategically placing distance between himself and the duo. 

Ray fully gets a look at the boy. He’s wearing black jeans and shoes and an open military jacket with a black button-up hanging, untucked, against his stocky frame. Ray hadn’t noticed it at first, but the boy looks familiar. His eyes are bright hazel, his hair still greasy as if he hasn’t washed it in days, and he still smells like paint and ink and coffee and cigarettes. He’s lost some of the baby fat, he’s gotten taller, but it’s still…

  
“Gerard?”

The boy gives him a blinding smile, and yes, all his small teeth are there, hiding behind his parted lips. 

“Ray! C’mon, c’mon, get up here with us, tell us what happened!” He forcibly grabs Ray’s arm and drags him towards the float, scrambling up first before gesturing for Ray to follow. Reluctantly, he does. The other boy, the one he’s never seen before, joins them as well, making his way further down the float to perch on one of the higher layers of the float. 

“Hey, Ray.” Gerard then looks sad. “I missed you. I missed you so much… but! What the fuck are you doing down here?!” He demands. “You’re supposed to be up there!”   


“So I am dead…” Ray sighs and Gerard slowly nods. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Car crash,” Ray answers Gerard’s question and Gerard crosses his arms, scowling. 

“That’s unfair.”

“Talk about what happened to you,” Ray says, gesturing to Gerard. Gerard uncrosses his arms, hugging Ray again. 

“What… what did happen to me?” Gerard asks. “I just… Everything went black.”

“It was some disease, I think. A family one of some kind. It barely ever shows any symptoms until just before it kills you.” Ray pats Gerard on the head. 

“Fuck. I thought it might’ve been something like that.” Gerard then pulls away from Ray again, spreading out on the float. The other boy watches from his perch, curious. “Oh, right, Ray, this is Frank. Frank, this is my old best friend, Ray.”

“Hi, Ray!” Frank greets, grinning. “You’re like us, yes? Who’ve you been greeted by? The twins or Mother War?” 

“Who?”

“I’m guessing neither, Frank. I think it’s our job to explain.” Gerard frowns. “Though, I’m not sure how much  _ we _ can explain. They’re much better at this thing.” 

“We’ll get there,” Frank says and jumps down to be on their level. He sits beside Gerard, stroking Gerard’s hair softly. “Now, where do we start? Oh, yes, death!” 

Gerard shakes his head. “Okay, okay, so, we-” he gestures to both himself and Frank. “Died on Halloween, three years ago. Him a few hours after me.”

“Nighttime. I was murdered. Nice thing to happen to a ten-year-old on his birthday? Yeah? By the way, you just missed the party! My big one three! Thirteen!” Frank grins. “Anyway, we’re both here and these twins go up to him and Mother War goes up to me. They explain that there’s some sort of fuckin’ prophecy or some shit, so we go along with it and wait.”

“Wait?” Ray asks, trying to process what Frank has said. “Wait for what?”

“You! Well, you and two others, of course. Until then, we keep ageing. That’s what the twins said anyway. Right, Gee?”

Gerard nods softly. “Yeah.” He then lies back and rests his head. “It’s a waiting game for us. But… it’s not boring. Nothing of the sort.”

“What about… them?”

“Oh…” Frank frowns. _“_ _ Them ."  _

“Frankie.”   


“What, Gee? I hate them!”

“It’s not their fault!”   


“What’s not their fault?” Ray interrupts. “I don’t…”

“They’re mindless, Ray. Their memories have been buried away. They’re not zombies, they’re more… followers. They… bow and pray to us. Makes me and Frankie uncomfortable, and it will probably make you uncomfortable too… because I’m pretty sure you’re one of us.”

“Which one?” Frank asks, curious. 

“Fear told me that ‘The Guitarist’ would be arriving soon. Ray, do you play guitar?”

Ray nods slowly. 

“There we go! That’s all settled. Now we just have to wait for the other two. Hey, Ray, wanna come play cards with us?” 

“Sure…” Ray shuffles closer and Gerard sits up, producing a pack of black and white cards. 

“Okay, so, they’re a bit different… The Leader is just the King. The Rhythmist is just the Queen. The Guitarist is the Ace. The Drummer is the Jack. And The Bassist is the Joker. But we don’t need the jokers for this game,” Gerard explains. “That’s kinda how we know who’s coming. Or… at least what they’re gonna be called. We’re waiting on the Drummer and the Bassist.” 

Frank snatches the cards out of Gerard’s hands and deals all three of them in quickly. “Less chit-chat, more play the fucking game.” 

Ray smiles at the younger boy, who’s bouncing with energy. He knows he’ll miss home, miss his parents and Bob and… Mikey. God, he’ll miss Mikey so much. But… it might be nice in the afterlife. With Gerard and Frank. With an old friend and a brand new one. 

* * *

**November 2012**

He stays for two minutes. He counts every second until it hits two and then he walks away. They haven’t even gone into the church yet, everyone’s just milling about, yet he leaves. His mother calls out for him, but she knows she can’t stop him. 

He goes home, he curls up in Gerard’s bed again, and he cries. 

His parents drop off some of Ray’s things that Ray’s parents said they thought he might’ve wanted him to have. He wishes Ray would still be around to give him them himself. 

A few t-shirts that still smell like him, some band posters, a stack of records, a few pairs of sneakers that are too big for him, and a beanie. He’s never seen it before. Ray doesn’t wear beanies. Ever. His hair has been consistently growing out into a massive fro of curls and would never dare to wear any kind of headpiece. He brings it up with his grandmother, who smiles softly at him. 

“He was going to give it to you, Mikey.”

Mikey frowns in confusion. 

“What?”

“He told me it was going to be something to cheer you up, since it’s been three years since…” She trails off but she doesn’t need to say it for him to know what she’s talking about. 

“He told you…”

“Yes. It was supposed to be a surprise.” She takes the beanie out of his hands and fits it on his head. She then leads him over to the mirror and he looks at himself. His hair sits nicely underneath it. It’s… perfect. 

He frowns, wiping his eyes. “Fuck.” She gently smacks him on the shoulder and he sighs. “Sorry, I just… It’s hard to…”

She rubs his back slowly. “It’ll be okay, Mikey. I promise.”

He slowly nods and gives his reflection a shaky smile. 

* * *

**September 2013**

It’s the first birthday he’s spent without Ray since before Gerard died. It’s also his fifteenth birthday. He’s… he’s older than Gerard now. Actually older. 

Him and Bob hang out in his room, playing video games beside one another. It’s tripping Bob up to, the fact that he’s the same age as Ray now, that Ray will never get any older. Both of them seem to lean on each other now. 

Mikey wears the beanie every day now, it’s become a part of him. He added Ray’s records to Gerard’s collection, separating them with a bit of cardboard so they wouldn’t get mixed up. He and Bob play them whenever they get the chance. They hang out all the time now and they both love to jam out together. Bob got a drum kit for his sixteenth birthday and so him, Ray, and Mikey used to play together. 

Mikey only had a guitar then, and he kinda sucked at it compared to Ray. Ray was a beast on guitar and was always patient as he taught Mikey how to play. 

For Christmas, his parents bought him a bass, because they saw the sad looks he gave his guitar. So now he’s self-teaching himself with all his prior knowledge alongside a few books and the internet of course. His new music teacher, who asks them to just call him Billie, told Mikey that he has a friend that plays bass if Mikey wanted some more professional help. The friend’s name is, funnily enough, Mike. 

With Mike’s lessons, Mikey is getting a lot better at bass. Bob and Mikey play as great as a house on fire, chaotic, insane, a little destructive, but nice to look at/listen to. They practice at Bob’s house like they did when Ray was with them.

“Happy birthday to youuuuuuu, happy birthday to youuuuuuuuuuuuuu, happy birthday Mikayyyyyyyy, happy birthday toooooooo youuuuuuuuuuu,” Bob sings loudly and Mikey cackles. “Now, present or cake first?” Bob asks. 

They’ve paused their game and Bob’s sitting on the floor with one hand behind his back. Mikey sits up on his bed, his back against the headboard. 

“Present.” He motions for Bob to hand it over. Bob hums, milling it over. 

“But…” 

“Gimme, Bob!” Mikey whines and Bob huffs, holding out what he’s been hiding. It’s a box covered in wrapping paper. As Mikey begins to get stuck into unwrapping the thing, he complains, “holy shit, how much tape did you use?”

“Dude, that shit would not stay.”

Mikey shakes his head, managing to pry the tape from the paper and get into his gift. It’s a plain, brown, cardboard box, but it’s fairly heavy so he’s guessing something’s inside.

He reaches over to his bedside table, spotting a pair of scissors, before he carefully cuts a side of the box open and peeks in, his eyes lighting up immediately. 

“Holy shit, dude!” 

He pulls multiple things out of the box. Cds, records, comic books. All brand new, all… “Are these  _ signed _ ?!” 

Bob nods. “Yeah, my dad apparently can get things like that, and I thought it would make a nice birthday present, especially such an important one such as this one.”

“Fuck… thank you so much.” He gazes at one of the signatures in awe. “This is so fucking cool.” 

Bob stands up. “Yeah, yeah, thank me later, cake now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His music teacher is Billie Joe Armstrong and his bass teacher is Mike Dirnt.
> 
> Yay, Ray has joined up with Frank and Gerard, and Bob and Mikey are getting closer as friends. Things are happy again... for now at least.
> 
> Song for this chapter   
Cemetary Drive - My Chemical Romance


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys so...
> 
> I DID GET TICKETS!
> 
> So I get to see MCR as my first concert. I am so excited. 
> 
> Soooo, you guys get another chapter. It's a little short and stuff, but I wanted to get it out there. :)

**June 2014**

It’s like life didn’t suck already. Gerard’s nineteenth birthday had passed in a blur and Ray’s is coming in quick. And now this. 

Elena is sick. 

Elena is dying. 

Like everyone else he loves. 

She’d fallen ill a couple of months prior, a week or so after Gerard’s birthday. Mikey’s parents had rushed her down to the hospital and now she’s stuck here. Stuck in bed, tired and lonely. He visits as much as he can stand, bringing his old acoustic guitar, bringing books to read, constantly wearing the beanie Ray got him, and some of Gerard’s old clothes that were starting to get a little small as Mikey grew lanky and tall. He’d had to stop wearing Gerard’s shoes a few months ago, when the last pair that  _ did _ fit him fell to pieces. 

Almost sixteen, the start of summer break, and he’s spending it inside by his grandmother’s side as she slowly fades away. 

He takes Bob with him somethings. Elena likes Bob, she thinks he’s good for Mikey, since he’s lost so much, it’s good that he has someone to be there for him, especially with the way she’s going. She never tries to sugar coat her situation, no one does. He’s done death, he’s dealt with it twice as much as most his age would have. 

“When…” He starts one day, when she’s looking particularly sickly. “When you see him… Can.... Can you tell him I miss him? Them… both of them.” She reaches out slowly and he takes her hand. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” She then lets out a loud, shuddering cough and turns her head away from him as she does. He cringes. Then she turns back, speaking in a rasp. “I’ll tell them that you love them and you miss them.”

He gulps, nodding. 

“I’ll… I’ll miss you too…” She squeezes his hand. “I… I love you so much, Grandma. You’ve been with me through…. Through everything. Every little thing, you’ve been there and helped me and… and I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” She shakes her head slightly. 

“Silly boy, you don’t need to repay me. You’ve been through too much, darling. You’re so young. All I ask is that once I’m gone, I don’t want to see you for a good few years. You deserve to live, Michael. You deserve happiness.”

Mikey blinks back his tears but she’s not done. 

“You deserve the world, my little Mikey. You deserve it all.”

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. He then stands. “I… They’re gonna ask me to leave soon… And I’ll miss the last bus if I don’t…” She smiles. 

“Of course darling. You get home safe.” 

He leans over and she runs her hand through his hair one time before speaking again. 

“Before you go, I want to say something. Something your brother wrote.”

“He… what did he write?”

“ _ What's the worst thing I can say. Things are better if I stay. So long and goodnight. So long and goodnight.”  _

He gives her a watery smile and nods once before collecting his jacket and walking out. He can feel her gaze on him as he steps out the door and down the corridor. 

It’s dark out as he waits for the last bus, which is late, of course, a slight drizzle of rain causing him to throw on his jacket. When the bus gets there, he only pauses for a second to spare a gaze at the hospital. 

He knows he won’t be back.

* * *

“Sit still!” Fear demands and Gerard freezes. Tufts of hair flutter to the ground as she cuts. He stays like that for a few moments before she pulls away and he leans forward, running his hands through his hair. 

It’s shorter, scruffy and shaggy and nice. Not too short, but not long like it was before. He brushes stray hairs off his jacket and stands up. 

“Frankie!” He calls and the younger boy hops to his feet, spinning around to face him. His mouth falls open into an O shape and Gerard giggles. 

“Holy fuck! It’s amazing!” He cries, jumping Gerard and tackling him to the ground. Gerard laughs, hugging Frank tight. 

Ray then comes over, looking grim. Gerard sits up, Frank tumbling over to the ground and righting himself with a huff. 

“Ray?” Gerard frowns. 

“It’s... “ Ray breathes out slowly. “It’s Elena, Gerard. It’s your grandmother. She’s here…”   
  


Gerard’s eyes go wide and fill with tears. Frank jumps back over to him and curls himself around Gerard as he begins to cry, loud sobs filling the air. The blank-eyed citizens of the broken city crouch and cover their ears, refusing to listen to their leader's cries of pain. 

A figure walks on the horizon, unaware of the sorrow she has just unintentionally caused. 

* * *

Elena isn’t sure what happened between falling asleep as she watched her living grandson walk out of her hospital room and waking up in the middle of a greyscale field. She stands, finding her joints move much easier. All her pain and struggle have left her and now she feels freer than ever. 

She knows what happened now. 

She’s dead. She’d resigned herself to the fact a long time, but it’s still something so big that she can’t just brush it off. She sees a city in the distance, on the horizon. She begins to walk towards it, remembering the promise she’d made dear Mikey. 

She had to find his brother and his boyfriend and tell them how much he missed them. She missed them too, but Mikey’s longing to see them ago has always been much stronger, the bond ever so slightly stronger. 

She keeps walking, and walking, and walking. If she was in her mortal body, she would have been worn out by now. But no, she just keeps going, not even breaking a sweat as she climbs over rubble and makes her way to the city. 

Standing at the peak of a hill overlooking the city, she sees a crowd of people crouched down, ears covered, as sobs echo against the buildings. 

She walks down the hill and the crowd parts as she follows the sound. She then sees a boy, eyes closed yet pouring with tears, with a pair of arms wrapped around him by another, smaller boy. He has short, dark hair and isn’t exactly tall nor short, skinny nor fat. She climbs the float, kneeling down in front of the boy, who is making loud, pained cries mixed with harsh breaths and keening whines. The other boy, the one who clutches tightly and pushes the top of his head against the first boy’s back and shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, sees her and recognition seems to sparkle in his eyes. He slowly breaks away and she places her hand on the crying boy’s shoulder. 

She has all of eternity to find her grandson, she has to comfort this boy, in any way she can. But, perhaps fate is on her side, because the second he looks up at her, she knows who he is. 

“Grandma?” Gerard’s gotten older, she notes. He hasn’t stayed the little fourteen-year-old that he was, with the long, greasy hair and golden eyes full of hope and excitement. No, this is a nineteen-year-old who’s had everything good taken away from him and has grown so much. But… behind that, there’s so much innocence and pain. 

“My dear Gerard, are these tears for me?” She asks, caressing his cheek. He nods, trying and failing to keep down a watery smile at her voice. She runs her hand through his hair and comes away with hairs clinging to her fingers. 

“S-Sorry, just c-cut it,” he hiccups and she laughs, soft and sweet. He giggles and his voice is so different but still so much the same as it was years before. 

She takes him into her arms and he quietly cries into her coat, which is something she’d never owned before. It’s black and adorned with silver buttons. It could resemble a military jacket aside from the loose neck making it more of a coat then something of a uniform. The jacket Gerard is wearing is much more military-like. It’s unbuttoned at the current, hanging loose over his frame with a black shirt and jeans underneath. 

Once he pulls away, another figure comes forward. 

“Elena?” She recognises that voice. 

Standing there is Ray. His hair has grown out, still curly and dark as always, maybe a little darker than before. He’s smiling, unsure, and she beckons him over. 

“Ray, sweetheart, come here. I have something to tell both of you.” Ray sits down beside her and she puts her hands on both of their shoulders. Gerard nods slowly and Ray looks nervous. “Okay, so before I died, someone promised me to deliver a message. To the both of you.”

“Okay…” Gerard hesitantly says. “What’s the message.”

“‘I miss you’, that was his message.”

Gerard’s eyes grow wide and Ray blinks back tears. 

“Who…” Gerard asks, even though from his face she knows he knows. 

“Michael, Gerard. Your brother misses you so much.” Gerard tries not to cry again. Ray bites his lip and she turns to him. “He misses you dearly too, Ray. He wears the beanie you got him every day.” His breath hitches. 

“I also told him that none of us want to see him down here for a good while either.” 

Gerard laughs and wipes his eyes of stray tears. “Not to be mean, but I  _ do not _ want to see him for another sixty years at least. Not until he’s old and grey and complaining about aches and pains.”

Ray nods in agreement. 

  
“Now, Gerard, introduce me to your new  _ friend _ .” Gerard blushes as he stands and walks over to the third boy, the one that had had his arms around Gerard, comforting him. 

“Grandma, this is Frank. He’s the love of my life.”

Frank holds out his hand and she takes it, shaking firmly. He then gives her a giant grin and she just knows she’s going to love him. 

* * *

Number three of four bad days hits when, just after midnight, his parents get a call from the hospital saying that Elena had passed. He doesn’t cry, though. All his tears have dried up. At least, he thought they had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst and fluff, people, angssssssssssssst and flufffffffffff
> 
> Song for this chapter   
Helena - My Chemical Romance


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter

**September 2015**

Mikey hasn’t really had friends his age growing up. Having just turned seventeen and being the only one that would be still in school, his days go like this. Get up, eat breakfast, go to school, go to each class and silently write down the notes at the back of the class, sneak off school grounds to have lunch with Bob, go back to school, go to each class and write notes, and finally, either go home and hang out with Bob there, or go to Bob’s house and hang out there. 

Straight forward, right?

Not anymore. 

A new kid called Pete is in  _ four _ of his classes. First day he became friends with the shy, nerdy Patrick, the jock Andy, and the music kid Joe. 

And now he wants to be Mikey’s friend too. Great. 

“Hey! Hey! Your name’s Michael or something, right? Mike?” 

Mikey slowly breathes in and out, trying to calm down his frustrations. He then turns around to face Pete with a frown. 

“Mike, hey, dude, you wanna hang out or…”

“Don’t call me Mike,” Mikey says plainly, shaking his head. 

“Okay, okay, sorry, Michael it is then. Okay, Michael, you wanna hang with us. Pat told me you kinda hang by yourself, so I wanted to-”

“I don’t need your pity, Pete.” Mikey turns back to his locker and begins to turn the dial to open it. Pete practically throws himself against the one next to him, leaning against it and staring at Mikey. 

“I’m not pitying you, Mike… sorry, Michael. I just wanna know if you wanted to hang ‘cause you seem like a really cool dude.” 

Mikey opens his locker, obscuring Pete from view with the door, ducks in and retrieves his chemistry book, and shuts it again, adjusting his glasses. 

“What do you know about me?” Mikey hums.

“Nothing, that’s why you’re so interesting.”

Mikey shakes his head, stepping away from the lockers. “If I say no, you won’t leave me alone, will you?” 

“Nope.”

Mikey scowls and starts to walk towards his class, Pete walking beside him with a spring in his step. Except, chemistry isn’t a class Mikey shares with Pete. Great, he’s now following him. 

“Leave me alone,” Mikey huffs. 

“Not until you agree to hang.”

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“ _ No. _ ”

“C’mon, please.” Pete draws out the ‘please’.

Mikey scrunches up his nose and rubs his brow before letting out a sigh. “Fine, just fuck off.”

Pete makes a noise of success and Mikey crosses his arms. 

“You won’t regret this, Michael!” 

“Call me Mikey, calling me Michael feels weird,” Mikey tells him and then storms away, Pete watching him from afar. 

* * *

“Bob, how do you get someone to leave you alone?” Mikey whines to Bob as they hang out in the McDonalds parking lot with their meals sitting in their laps. Bob raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Elaborate?”   
  


“There’s this new guy at school. His name’s Pete and he’s fucking determined to be my friend.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Bob asks, popping a fry into his mouth. 

“I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for more friends. Everyone I love dies, so kill me for thinking that if I try and get another friend it might end in tragedy.” Mikey throws his arms in that air.

“Dude, none of that shit was your fault. You’re just unlucky.”

“How do I know it won’t happen again?”

“How do I know that you won’t get hit by a car while crossing the road going to the school? Or that my parents won't suddenly die overseas? Anything can happen, Mikey. Good things, bad things. You may have experienced your fair share of grief, but that doesn’t mean that you’ll get screwed over again.”

Mikey bites his lip, lifting up his drink and slurping it through the straw loudly. Bob cringes at the sound as Mikey pulls the straw away from his lips and frowns. “I’m… I’m just scared.”

“I know, Mikes. Fuck, I’m scared of losing you, dude. To some freak accident, to the crazy illness that took your brother, to… to yourself…”

Mikey freezes. “No… no… I-I promise.”

Bob pats him on the head. “I know. Doesn’t stop me from being scared. But… I leave you by yourself, don’t I. I trust you not to do stupid things. You need to just take a leap of faith. You’re scared, sure, but who isn’t scared of new things, of trying things? Everyone’s a little scared of change.” 

Mikey sips his drink again, quieter this time. He pauses for a few seconds, seeming to gather his thoughts and then… “Since when is Bob Bryer this wise.”

Bob laughs and gently hits him on the head. “Since always, dumbass. C’mon, I’m taking you back to school.”

Mikey huffs as Bob guns the engine and drives out of the parking lot, following the road back to school. 

Before Mikey gets out, Bob puts a finger up to get Mikey to wait. 

“What?”

“Hang out with that guy, Mikey. You won’t regret it.” 

* * *

He does regret it… somewhat. 

He goes to hang out with Pete and his friends, and it’s nice. Joe, Andy, and Patrick are all totally cool dudes, and while Pete originally came off as annoying, he’s actually a pretty nice guy to hang out with. 

And then he and Pete sorta get closer. 

Now, Mikey has already made it abundantly clear that he is in no way ready for another relationship. He told the whole group this when Pete told him that a girl named Alicia had a big crush on him. He’s said, many times, that he’s not ready, and Pete’s cool with that. 

That doesn’t stop him from flirting. 

Mikey doesn’t mind the harmless shit, he’s not attracted to Pete, and he doesn’t really believe Pete’s attracted to him in that way either, he’s just a horny, gay teenager. So, if Mikey is the centre of Pete’s less then clean thoughts, he can’t find it in himself to care. 

It’s when he begins to form a serious, emotional connection with Pete that he gets scared. Pete, being new in town, doesn’t know the history of tragedy that Mikey carries on his back. He’s oblivious of the whole thing, and, while he’s respectful of Mikey’s boundaries, he doesn’t quite understand them. 

“Wow, this is your house?” Pete gapes. It’s not all that impressive, but  _ everything _ is impressive to Pete Wentz, so Mikey just shrugs it off and unlocks the front door. 

“Come on,” Mikey says and literally drags Pete upstairs to his room. Not the basement, not yet. But… Pete stops at the door to the basement. He frowns at it. 

“Where’s that lead to?”

The basement door is different from the others in the hallway. Shapes and patterns have been carved into the wood, back from when Gerard was experimenting with woodwork and carving. They look amazing, but then again, anything Gerard did was amazing to Mikey. Is amazing, because even six years later, the carvings are still fully intact. It helps that Mikey occasionally polishes the wood. 

“The basement,” Mikey says with a frown and pulls Pete away from the door and lets the shorter guy stumble up the stairs. 

Pete’s fascination with the basement is brief because he’s suddenly looking about Mikey’s room with the energy of a little kid. With his height, it’s a surprise he hasn’t been mistaken for one… yet. 

“Woah! You’ve got a signed copy of this!” He points at one of the many signed comics that Mikey had gotten from Bob. 

Mikey shrugs and nods. “Yeah, my friend gets them for me.”

“That’s so fucking cool.”

Mikey smirks. “Pretty cool, I guess.”

“Can I…?” Pete gestures to the comic. Mikey nods and Pete begins to carefully flip through the pages before settling down on the ground to read it. Mikey goes over to his CD player and pops an old Queen album in. Pete bops his head to the music as he reads and Mikey smiles as he jumps on his bed and stares at the ceiling. 

They stay like that for a while before Pete jumps to his feet, setting the finished comic down on Mikey’s desk and looks around the room a bit more. The CD is coming close to the end, and Mikey is just resting until Pete speaks up again. 

“Who’s this?”

Mikey’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and he blinks his eyes open. He sits up, searching for what Pete is talking about. He finds his answer at the old photograph of Gerard, taken on a day trip in June of 2009, mere months before his death. 

“Oh… that’s my brother…”

Pete spins around. “You have a brother?!”

“Had. He… He died, about six years ago.”

Pete’s face falls and Mikey gives him an awkward smile. “Shit, I… I didn’t… I didn’t know…” Pete stumbles over his words. 

“It’s cool.” Mikey shakes his head, standing and taking the photo off his dresser and smiling at it. “It was a long time ago.” 

“What was his name?” Pete’s voice is subdued, but he’s not pitying him, which Mikey appreciates. 

“Gerard. He was fourteen, in this picture. It must’ve been taken…” Mikey thinks for a second. “Roughly five months before he died.”

Pete winces. 

“He must’ve been cool, to have you for a brother.”

Mikey laughs. “Yeah, he was.”

* * *

Talking to Pete about Ray takes longer. But, eventually, Pete finds a picture of Ray and asks about him.

“I’m surrounded by tragedy. My Grandmother died last year, too.”

“That’s why you don’t want to be close to people?” Pete asks. 

“Yeah, it’s hard… Even now, I’m scared. You and the guys mean so much to me. Losing you guys would wreck me. And… it wouldn’t be fair on you guys. I feel guilty.”

“Don’t, dude. It’s not your fault that these things are happening.” 

Mikey hangs his head. “I know… Bob doesn’t stop reminding me.”

“And I won’t either!” Pete tells him. 

* * *

**March 2016 **

Mikey hates life. He sits at Pete’s bedside, the boy lying asleep in bed. He’s been like this for two months, resting in a coma. The doctors don’t think he’ll come back. 

No matter how much Bob reminds him, Mikey still feels like it’s all his fault. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry
> 
> Songs for this chapter  
prom dress - mxmtoon  
Golden Days - Panic! At The Disco


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

**November 2015 **

_ Mikey spends half his lunches hanging out with Bob and half hanging out with Pete and his friends. Those friends include Patrick, Andy, Joe, two hippie boys called Ryan and Spencer, a hyperactive guy called Brendon who tends to hang all over Ryan, and a guy who rarely turns up to school called Jon. _

_ All of them are pretty cool and nice and they accept Mikey into their friend group without complaint. _

_ It’s Brendon that brings it up. _

_ “Hey, so… do you guys think Mr Joe is actually Billie Joe Armstrong from Green Day?” He asks one lunch. _

_ Ryan immediately scoffs. “What?” Jon begins to snigger and Brendon rushes to defend himself. _

_ “Hey! His first name is Billie, and… and… uh, Mikey, his friend that teaches you bass is called Mike, right?” _

_ “Yeah?” Mikey hums, picking at his sandwich. _

_ “Green Day’s bassist is named Mike! And-” _

_ “They look nothing alike,” Pete points out as the bell rings and they gather their things. Andy and Joe break off to go to their classes, Jon heading towards the school gate in order to skip his last few classes, but the rest of them head towards the music room. _

_ “Yeah, Mr Joe has glasses and a beard…” _

_ “A disguise!” Brendon claims as they enter the classroom. They’re the first ones there. _

_ “A disguise?” A voice echoes over from by the board. Billie is standing there, looking both curious and amused. “What are you boys talking about?” _

_ Mikey’s ready to duck his head down when Brendon loudly voices the question that all of them secretly want answered. _

_ “Are you Billie Joe Armstrong? Lead singer of Green Day?!” _

_ Billie looks shocked for a minute before he starts to laugh. He adjusts his glasses on his nose before straightening himself out. _

_ “Excuse me? Me? The same person as Billie Joe Armstrong?” _

_ Instead of standing down, Brendon steps forward. “Yeah!” _

_Billie looks contemplative for a moment before seeming to decide something and nodding. “Yeah.”_

_ Brendon freezes. “What?” _

_ “I said ‘yeah’.” Billie reiterates and shrugs, turning back to the board to write up their lesson plan for the day. “You got me.” _

_ “You… but… seriously?” It’s not Brendon who says it, but instead, Ryan, who stares at the back of Billie’s head, wide-eyed. _

_ “Yep.” _

_ “You’re not joking?” Spencer pipes up. _

_ “Nope.” Billie continues to write as if he’s not left them sitting in their seats in pure shock. _

_ “And Mikey’s tutor is actually Mike Dirnt?” Pete asks. Billie nods again. _

_ “He was happy to help.” _

_ Brendon breathes in and out for a moment before he steps forward again. “I… I was half-joking when I mentioned it at first.” _

_ “I know.” _

_ “But… but you…” _

_ “Yeah.” Billie turns back around, lifting up his glasses. “Disguise, boys.” _

_ Brendon’s mouth almost drops to the floor and even Mikey is staring with wide eyes. Because… Because it’s the actual Billie Joe Armstrong, lead singer of world-famous band Green Day, standing there, ready to teach a group of Juniors how to read fucking sheet music properly. _

_ Billie hums, taking in their expressions. “I’m guessing you guys are wondering why I’m teaching you lot instead of being out there, singing to thousands of fans. You know what, if you hang back after class, I might just tell you. For now, go to your desks, I’ve still got a class to teach.” _

* * *

_ The group of them wait after class, Mikey glad he has a free period after this and Pete lucky enough to share that free period with him. Patrick, Ryan, Brendon, and Spencer linger as well, not caring how late they’re going to be. _

_ Especially Brendon, who begins to throw out questions even before everyone else has cleared out. Billie shoots him a look and Brendon goes quiet. _

_ “Alright, alright, you’ve waited long enough,” Billie says as he takes an empty seat and sits backwards in it, across from all of them. Mikey watches with his head resting in his hands, elbows digging into the wood in front of him. _

_ “I’m here, teaching, because I want to be. I’ve always wanted to teach kids music, so I am. There are other reasons, but I won’t go into depth with those as those are personal, but just know that I’m not done with music, kids. Not at all.” _

_ Brendon throws his arms in the air cheerfully. Then he slams his hands on the desk excitedly. “Can you sign my CDs?” _

_ Billie laughs. _

_ “Bring them in and sure, I’ll sign them. Now, get out, I’ve got papers to grade.” He shoos them and Brendon cheers as he’s dragged by Ryan out of the classroom. _

_ Mikey recounts the whole thing to Bob later, who hides his surprise well when informed that his music teacher for a year was fucking Billie Joe Armstrong. _

_ “Fuck, Gerard would’ve lost his goddamn mind… Ray too,” Mikey exclaims as Bob drives them towards the cemetery. They go once a week, sometimes venturing further in, sometimes hanging out by the church steps or the front gates. _

_ “Yeah, your brother loved that band, didn’t he.” _

_ “Hell yeah… he was… he was even buried in a Green Day shirt,” Mikey says as Bob parks the car. “A dookie one. He fucking loved that album.” _

_ “It’s fucking weird though, like, how often does shit like this happen. Dude, your tutor is Mike Dirnt, the Mike Dirnt.” _

_ “I know! I still can’t quite wrap my head around it.” _

_ They walk the rest of the way comparing favourite Green Day songs and poking fun at each other until they get to Ray’s grave. _

_ Mikey proceeds to explain his whole day, whisper a small prayer of thanks, pluck a few weeds, and stand before walking over to his brother’s grave and doing the same thing. He leaves Bob to talk to Ray alone, and instead, sits beside Gerard’s grave, humming a tune he’s come up with. He doesn’t have lyrics or anything for it, but it’s a nice song that he’s thinking of calling it Planetary, but he’s only got the bassline worked out, along with bits and pieces of a drumbeat. _

_ Gerard and Ray would’ve made it complete. Now he doesn’t think Planetary will ever become a full song. _

_ Unfortunately. _

* * *

**March 2016**

Pete isn’t dead or anything, though it feels like it most of the time. It’s hard to stay in the hospital room, whether because it brings back memories from his grandmother’s death, or simply the fact that the talkative, energetic Pete is silent and still, sleeping soundlessly through all and every sound. 

He knows Brendon absolutely hates it in here, the stillness. Whenever he’s there, he fidgets as he stays quiet. On the other hand, Ryan is always speaking. He reads aloud, usually, whether from books or personal poems, he can’t bear the silence either. Patrick barely ever visits, but whenever he’s here, he’s usually crying silent tears. 

Mikey himself, usually only stays in small intervals. He’ll stay for about fifteen minutes and then stand and walk out, sitting outside the door for another twenty. He doesn’t have his license yet, so he either calls Bob to pick him up or catches the bus home. 

He’d stopped spending so much time sleeping in Gerard’s bed about a year ago, but now the habit has returned. He’s also struggling to not pick up one of Gerard’s old cigarette packs. Gerard had hidden them under his bed but Mikey had found them and, instead, hidden them behind his own bookshelf. All unopened and full. 

He usually gets Bob to buy him the cancer sticks, but the urge to smoke Gerard’s is a sentimental one over a practical one. But he holds himself back as well as he can. 

“Hey, Pete,” Mikey whispers at the boy’s beside. “It’s fucked up, what happened to you. My fault though, isn’t it. Bob keeps telling me it’s not, but it is. I ruin the lives of everyone around me. I said you would regret being friends with me. Do you? Probably.”

He relaxes into his seat. “You know, Ray died in the car crash he was in. Fuck, I hate car crashes. At least you didn’t die. Not yet, anyway. You’re just… asleep, right? That’s what they said. They said you might also be able to hear me, that’s why I’m talking. To be honest, I don’t really care if you can hear me or not, I just need to speak.”

“I hate my life, you know. Gerard left me a long time ago, you get me? He died and I couldn’t do a fucking thing about it. He never even fucking graduated. Never went to college, you know he wanted to go to an art college, be an actual comic book artist or maybe a musician. He never got married, had kids. He never got the fucking chance.”

“Me and Ray were going to get married, I think. We were so close, even before I kissed him. We were going to get married and buy a house and wake up curled in each other's arms.” Mikey wipes his eyes free of tears. “We never got that, did we? I might, one day, if I don’t die before that, but it makes me feel guilty for wanting that. He never got the chance, why should I?”

“I’m not sure if you’re going to wake up, but I truly hope you do. All of us hope you do.”

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have any friends. None, besides Bob. And Bob was Ray’s friend at first. And Ray was Gerard’s friend. So, I’ve never made friends of my own, only people others have introduced me to. Except you. You’re the only one who’s actually approached me. You drew me into your friend group because you thought I was cool. Me? Cool? You’re a fucking idiot if you think that.”

“A nice idiot, though. So… thank you. Just… please don’t leave me like everyone else. I beg of you.” He curls up in his seat, the cushion doing nothing to comfort him. If he falls asleep, he runs the risk of missing the bus, but at the moment, he can’t bring himself to care. 

He gets shaken awake by a nurse, Bob standing in the doorway, waiting. 

* * *

**September 2016**

Mikey runs, he actually runs, to the hospital. It’s usually an hour walk yet he makes it in half that time, simply from how fast he’s running. He almost collapses at the door, a nurse hurrying to keep him upright and offering him a glass of water. He takes it thankfully and then hurries up the stairs to the familiar room he’s been frequenting. 

He almost skids across the floor, panting, and slides the door open, locking eyes with brown ones. 

“Pete,” he breathes out and from the bed, the boy gives him a smile. With a raspy voice, Pete responds. 

“Hey, Mikey.” He waves with a bit of effort and Mikey walks across the room, sliding into the seat beside the bed. 

“Fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay.” He sags with relief and Pete reaches over, patting Mikey on the head. 

“Me? Leave you? How awful of a person would that make me?”

“Yeah, it’d make you a real asshole.” 

Pete manages a slight laugh. Mikey smiles at him softly. 

Maybe everything will be okay.

* * *

“He turned eighteen today,” Gerard mutters glumly. Frank hums in confusion but Ray’s eyes widen. 

“I… I didn’t even…”

“Realise, no, I didn’t realise how quickly it came either.” Gerard grabs his microphone again and shuffles over to Frank. Frank takes Gerard’s head and sets it in his lap, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Wanna sing him ‘happy birthday’?” Frank asks. Gerard shakes his head. 

“No… no… I’ve got something better.”

“Okay.” Frank softly says and kisses Gerard’s forehead. Ray watches, guitar raised, as Gerard begins to sing, beginning to strum along when necessary. 

_ “Does anyone have the time to bring me down? _

_ And can I sleep all night long _

_ To the drums of the city rain?” _

Frank hums as he continues. 

_ “Just make it up _

_ 'Cause I'm awake all night long _

_ To the drums of the city rain _

_ And brother if you have the chance to pick me up? _

_ And can I sleep on your couch to the pound of the ache and pain? _

_ I'm my head 'cause I'm awake all night long _

_ To the drums of the city rain” _

He began to cry, even as Elena climbs the float and kneels down beside her grandson. 

_ “The lights we chase _

_ The nights we steal _

_ The things that we take _

_ To make us feel this _

_ I can't go back _

_ Don't think I will _

_ 'Cause I don't sleep tonight as long as I still _

_ Hear the drums of the city rain” _

She shushes him as Frank pries the mic from his hand. He begins to sob loudly and Ray crawls nearer, threading his fingers with Gerard’s. Frank just goes back to running his hands through the boy’s hair, humming the tune Gerard had stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to do happy, okay. I tried.
> 
> Also, I fixed the plot hole of Green Day existing alongside their teacher being Billie Joe Armstrong, so I guess we're back to 0 plot holes. I hope. In all honesty, I loved writing that scene. Hope you loved reading it :)
> 
> Song for this chapter  
Brother - Gerard Way
> 
> Also, the bassline to Planetary (GO!) is absolutely beautiful, go listen to it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LOfHKFD0M3c


	8. Chapter 8

**October 2016**

Halloween is the worst day of his life. Always has been, always will be. 

And it just got a whole lot worse. 

“Mikey…?” The whisper echoes through the phone. It’s late at night and Mikey has just groggily reached for his phone to stop it from ringing. 

It’s Bob, on the other end, breathing slowly and heavily. 

“Bob? What’s wrong?” He mumbles, gathering Gerard’s sheets around him and he sits up. 

“Uh… it’s… something bad happened… just… dude… take all my shit, I’m giving it to you… This… this phone call is being recorded, so… so just…” 

“Bob?!” He pushes the sheets away and jumps out of bed, standing, freezing, in a loose t-shirt and boxers. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“I’m… fuck…. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this isn’t… I can’t just do this to you… but…”

“Bob,” he says in a firmer tone, though his voice is beginning to shake. “What’s-” 

“Wrong?” Bob finishes. “I’m… fuck… I hate this… I… shit… you’ve been through enough, dude, I can’t believe I’m about to put you through this… but…”

  
Mikey waits. And waits. And waits. 

“I’m dying, Mikey. I’m… I’m sorry.”

The call cuts off and Mikey is left, stunned. The phone tumbles to the ground and he grabs the nearest pair of jeans he sees, stumbling as he shimmies into them, grabbing a pair of socks and shoes and hopping around as he struggles to get them on. 

He runs up the basement stairs and out into the cold, Fall air. He shivers and runs back inside, throwing on a hoodie and grabbing his phone from the floor and his wallet. 

He’ll need to catch the train to get to where Bob is. 

You see, Bob had gone to New York the week prior with his parents. It is almost a two-hour train ride, but Mikey is sure he can manage. His parents give him enough money as it is, he can spare a little to make sure his friend is okay. 

The train station isn’t too far away from his house, so he makes it there in about ten minutes. The next train heading to New York isn’t for another fourteen minutes, so he curls up in a seat, shivering from the cold and the panic. He should go home. He… he should go home and wake up his parents and ask them. 

No… he’s eighteen now, he can do this. He can do this himself. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and redials Bob’s number, but it goes to voicemail. He tries again and again, yet there’s nothing. 

He tries not to cry as Bob’s words come back to him. _ “I can’t just do this to you” “you’ve been through enough” “I’m sorry”. _

He looks up just in time for the midnight train to pull into the station. He jumps up out of his seat and enters the first carriage he sees, finding a free seat easily in the practically empty train. The only other people in the carriage with him is an older guy with grey hair and a cane, a middle-aged woman with a face covered in smudged makeup, a teenage girl who clutches a duffle bag to her chest, and a businessman with exhaustion marking his face, 

He wonders what their stories are. As the train begins to move again and the conductor comes along to collect tickets, he pulls out a few notes, buying a one-way ticket. He doesn’t know how he’ll be getting home, whether he’ll take the train back, or his parents will discover him missing and drive all the way to New York to get him. 

He doesn’t really care. All he cares about is what he’s going to do. He probably should have made a plan before he left, because he doesn’t even know where he’s going. He doesn’t know where Bob is, what he meant over the phone, what’s going on. 

All he knows is that he’s scared. He’s absolutely terrified. 

They zoom past stations, all desolate, and it reminds Mikey of an apocalypse situation, only helped along by the bits of graffiti littering the stations, and the unique cast of characters surrounding him. 

He wonders if, in a parallel universe, the group of them are the last survivors on earth, stuck together. Probably, there’s a parallel universe for fucking everything. There’s one where, instead of running outside, he rushed upstairs and cried out for his parents. One where he didn’t even pick up the call. One where he didn’t get a call. One where Pete didn’t go into a coma, or he never met Pete, or his grandma was still alive, or Ray hadn’t gotten into that car, or Bob and Ray had never met, or Ray and Mikey never kissed, or Ray hadn’t been Gerard’s friend. 

Or… one where Gerard was still alive. 

If Gerard was still alive now, he would be there, right next to Mikey, but unlike Mikey, he’d have a fucking plan. He’d know what he was doing. 

“Hi…” 

He hadn’t even noticed but the teenage girl had moved to sit near him. She offers him a shaky smile, terror in her eyes. He offers her an unsure one in return. 

“Hi,” he responds back. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, just running away, you?” She says flippantly and waits for his answer. 

“Distress call. Gotta make sure my friend’s okay.”

“At midnight? How far you headed?”

“All the way.” He sinks back into his seat just to make a point and her eyes widen. She stands again and takes a seat next to him. 

“Well… I’m Jamia.” 

“Mikey.” He then thinks. “How far _ you _ headed?”

“Same as you. I’ve got a few friends there, waiting to pick me up.” She crosses her arms over her bag. “My girlfriend is up there. She’s waiting for me.” 

He smiles at her. “Lucky.” 

“Her name’s Lindsey. She’s in a band. She’s twenty, I’m seventeen. Her band came to Jersey and we fell in love. We kissed but my mom saw and she’s like, a massive homophobe, so Lindsey begged me to go with her when she left for L.A, but I couldn’t get away. Finally, with help from her friends Crista and Breezy, as well as my friend Kristin, I’m finally running away to be with her.”

“Kristin? Kristin Blanford?” He asks, remembering another girl Brendon had picked out for him. The girl is actually really nice, and he’s actually had quite a few good conversations with her. 

“Yeah?”

“I… I know her…” He then asks her which school she goes to, which she quickly replies with the same one he attends. 

“No way, we go to the same school _ and _ you know Kristin, and we’ve _ never _ met?” Jamia puts her hand over her mouth in surprise. “That’s freaky.”

“Yeah.”

“Who do you hang out with?” 

“Oh, uh, Pete Wentz and his lot. I’m a Senior.”

“I know those guys. I’m a Junior. You take music?”

“Yeah,” he hums as he looks out the window before speaking again. “You know our teacher is actually Billie Joe Armstrong, right?”

She nods. “Lindsey saw him and figured it out.”

“Hey.” He sits up. “Tell me what actually happened with you and her.” 

“Only if you promise to tell me _ your _ story too. We’ve got roughly an hour-forty, so that’s enough time to get out stories out.”

He smiles softly. “Alright, I promise.” 

She breathes out slowly. “Okay, so…”

* * *

_ July 2015 _

_ Newly sixteen and nearly a sophomore, Jamia doesn't think life can get any better. She gets good grades, has the bestest friend in the world, and makes her parents happy. _

_ It’s not until her best friend Kristin has the idea to sneak out and see a punk show downtown. Jamia, being a girl who always follows the rules and doesn’t do bad things, unlike 90% of people her age, never losing her ‘bedtime’, that being 10 o’clock, only recently being raised from 9:30. _

_ How sad, she would think back. _

_ But at the time, Jamia is happy with the arrangement. Follow the rules, be happy, be content. Go to college, get a degree and a good job, settle down with a nice boy with a good job, live in a nice house and raise a nice family. _

_ All nice. Nice, nice, nice. _

_ “Come on Jay!” Kristin whines. “It’ll be fun.” _

_ “I’ll get in trouble!” Jamia responds back, unsure. From what she’s heard about the concerts downtown, it’s awful. Sweaty, loud, people getting hit in the face and bruised and bloodied, people starting fights and getting drunk. That doesn’t sound fun to her. _

_ “Your parents don’t need to know, Jamia. You’ve got to let loose, Jay, you need to get out there. You’re soooooo,” she exaggerates, “lame.” _

_ Jamia’s face goes beet red. “No! No, I’m not! I…” She hesitates. “I’ll go!” _

_ Kristin’s face breaks out into a giant grin. “Really!” _

_ “Yes…” She says, this time less sure. “Yes, I’ll go…” _

_ “Great! Okay, so, we’re not gonna sneak you out of your house movie style, you know, climbing out ya window and all that shit. No, you come over to mine and we’ll get you all dolled up for the concert. You can’t go wearing…” She gestures to Jamia’s long, white skirt and yellow blouse. “That.” She spits the last word out. _

_ Jamia frowns. “Uh…” _

_ “Some of my clothes should fit you. It’ll be fine, you’ll have fun. Trust me!” _

_ Jamia just sighs. What has she agreed to? _

* * *

_ “Can I go to Kristin’s on Friday night?” Jamia asks her mother, who turns around from cooking dinner and smiles. _

_ “Of course, it’s not a weeknight so I don’t see why not. Just remember, don’t stay up too late or eat too much sugar.” _

_ She cringes as she lies. “We won’t.” _

_ “What will you be doing?” _

_ She hates lying. She really does. “Watching movies, I think.” _

_ “Good, good. I don’t want you talking about boys or anything. You’re still too young. Or… God forbid, doing each other’s makeup and nails.” She gasps at the thought. _

_ Jamia winces slightly. Makeup. Kristin loves doing makeup. She’s never done Jamia’s makeup, but Jamia has a feeling if she wants to stop looking so ‘lame’ as Kristin put it, she’d have to put up with it. _

_ She still sorta prays it won’t be that bad. _

_ Friday comes quickly and Jamia packs up a backpack of clothes and toiletries alongside a pair of pyjamas to sleep in. She then waves goodbye to her parents and to her nice, clean life, and jumps in Kristin’s old, beat-up car. Kristin is in her year, but she's almost seventeen, and with a full license already due to some extra driving courses and a headstart. _

_ Kristin looks giddy the whole time. _

_ “Okay, okay, so, so, I have the perfect look picked out for you.” _

_ “Does it involve a lot of makeup?” Jamia asks and Kristin shrugs. _

_ “Not that much. Some, I guess, but don’t worry, I know you hate the thought of lipstick on your lips, so I left that out. No, just a bit of shadow and eyeliner and a little foundation should do the trick. A little mascara as well… maybe… your eyelashes are kinda long and dark enough as they are.” _

_ Not that much? That sounds like a whole heap to her. _

_ Instead of voicing her opinion, she simply clutches her backpack and sits silently the whole drive. Once they get to Kristin’s house, the elder girl is guiding her upstairs and into her bedroom, where she has one full outfit laid out, as well as a bunch of clothes in a pile. _

_ “Okay, so, these are mine,” she says as she gestures to the full set. She then gestures to the pile. “Somewhere in that pile, there’s something that fits you.” _

_ She begins to dig, pulling things out and holding them up to Jamia before shaking her head or nodding. _

_ She then bundles up the clothes she’s chosen and holds them out for Jamia to take. She does and Kristin points to the bathroom. _

_ “Get changed in there. I’m getting dressed in here, so knock before you come in.” _

_ Jamia nods, retreating to the bathroom with the unfamiliar clothing. A pair of jeans, slightly ripped at the knees, alongside an old black t-shirt and leather jacket. _

_ Not too bad. Nothing she’d ever wear, but not that bad. _

_ She changes quickly, refusing to look in the mirror, before settling her nerves and turning. _

_ It looks… good? She’s not sure, something doesn’t feel quite right. Ignoring the feeling, she walks out of the bathroom and raps on the door like asked. Kristin calls out a loud, ‘come in’ and she enters. _

_ Kristin is wearing a short skirt, black with a long white stripe down the bottom and is pleated, reminding Jamia of those girls in those teen dramas. Except, she’s also wearing a black top tucked into it, with a studded denim vest thrown on top of that and a belt resting around her waist. _

_ She’s actually really… pretty. _

_ Kristin looks Jamia up and down and grins. _

_ “Perfect. I love it. C’mon, you brought your sneakers, right? None of my boots will fit you.” _

_ Yes, Jamia has brought her sneakers. They’re the only thing in her closet that is even close to black. An ashy grey pair of converse, which she barely ever wears. _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “Cool, put ‘em on,” she calls, shoving her own feet into a pair of practical combat boots. Jamia does the same with the sneakers and then Kristin is attacking her with a brush and a bag of makeup. After a second of panic, Jamia calms and just lets Kristin do her thing. _

_ An hour later, Jamia is finally allowed to look, and what she sees surprises her. _

_ It’s really not much makeup like Kristin said. A light dusting here and there. And again she has the realisation that she looks… good? Except, this time there’s no feeling of something missing. It’s like it’s… _

_ “Perfect!” Kristin cries, jumping up and down. “You’re going to have so much fucking fun!” _

_ Jamia freezes as the curse meets her ears. Of course, it’s not like she hasn’t heard people swear before. Even Kristin drops the occasional s-word. But… she’s never dropped an f-bomb like that before. But, again, Jamia stays tight-lipped about the thing, because saying something would be ‘lame’ and she doesn’t really need to say anything. _

_ It’s just a word. _

_ A little while later, Jamia is slipping back into Kristin’s car and heading downtown to the concert. She’s a bundle of nerves, with all the fear of both, not fitting in and the horror stories she’s heard about people being beaten and trampled. All mixed with a tiny spark of excitement. Which surprises her. _

_ Downtown is scary to her. It’s not that late, the sunset still peeking over the horizon, but the tight alleyways and shaded sidewalks make it look darker than it is. Kristin parks near a cluster of buildings and gets out, Jamia following her with an uneasy frown. Kristin quickly locks the car and leads Jamia towards a run-down building, quickly entering the club. _

_ It’s loud, but Jamia doesn’t mind it as much as she thought she would. They don’t even try and approach the bar or order drinks, instead, Kristin just leads her into the crowd already dancing away to the band playing on stage. In the sea of people Kristin’s hand disappears from Jamia’s wrist, and then she disappears from sight and Jamia starts to shake. She’s all alone, with loud, sweaty people around her, far from home, no way back. She forces her nerves down and desperately tries to get into the music. _

_ It’s good music, she guesses. Nothing like anything she’s heard before, but nice all the same. She tries her hardest to forget her fears and get invested in the music. Her leather jacket begins to feel hot, but she can’t bear to take it off and it get lost. It belongs to Kristin and probably cost a lot, so Jamia can’t lose it. Even still, it starts to slip off her shoulders as she gets pushed about the crowd, getting closer and closer to the stage. _

_ The band is pretty cool, she thinks. But her eyes go straight away to the bassist, a pretty, older girl in a pleated plaid skirt and a white button-up with a black waistcoat over top and black and white striped tie around her neck. She’s playing her heart out and bouncing around the stage, flicking her pigtails from left to right wildly. _

_ She then launches herself into the crowd near Jamia, and her eyes meet Jamia’s. Jamia blushes from being caught staring and the bassist grins at her with ruby red lips. She takes her fingers off the bass to wave and mouths something Jamia can’t work out as she’s swept back up to the stage. _

_ Jamia watches her the rest of the performance, the bassist watching her right back. As the last song comes to a close, the bassist gestures with her thumb to near the back door and Jamia bites her lip a little before discreetly nodding and earning a blinding smile in return. _

_ Jamia slowly shuffles through the crowd towards the back door as the band makes their way off stage and the crowd begins to disperse. _

_ “Hey, darlin’!” A call comes from over by the door. The bassist is standing there, waiting for her. “I haven’t seen you before. I’d know, I’d never forget a pretty face like yours.” _

_ Jamia blushes as she gets closer. “I haven’t been…” _

_ “First timer, huh? Well then, how was it?” The bassist asks reaching out and wrapping her arm around Jamia. Oddly enough, this doesn’t make Jamia uncomfortable like she thought it might. _

_ “Loud… sweaty… but fun.” _

_ The bassist gives her another grin. “Glad you had fun, darling. Fuck, you’re so fucking cute, you know?” _

_ Jamia ducks her head down, another blush dusting her cheeks. The bassist just laughs. _

_ “You’re pretty too,” Jamia says quietly, but the bassist must hear because she just squeezes tighter. _

_ “Aw, thanks, darling.” _

_ “Jamia!” Jamia freezes as she hears Kristin calling out her name. The bassist loosens her hold a little. “Jamia! Come on, we need to go!” _

_ Jamia breaks away but the bassist's hand flings out to grab hold of Jamia’s wrist. _

_ “Hey, wait, don’t go.” She sounds more serious now. “I… I don’t want you to leave. I… I want to get to know you.” _

_ Jamia bites her lip. “My… my friend is calling.” _

_ The bassist frowns. “Can you… I want to talk to you more. Can you come on Sunday night? We’re playing again.” _

_ Jamia mirrors her expression. “I-I don’t know… I can… I can try?” _

_ The bassist quickly nods, grasping hold of Jamia’s hand with both of hers. “I’m Lindsey… Please come on Sunday. Please,” she pleads. Jamia gives her a few quick nods. _

_ “I’m Jamia. I’ll try, I promise.” _ _ She tugs away and sees Lindsey look close to tears as she hears Kristin call out her name again. “I’m… I’m sorry, I hope I can come.” Before she can leave, Lindsey places a kiss on Jamia’s lips, moving to clutch tightly to her shoulder and hair. Jamia finds herself relaxing into the kiss for a moment before Kristin calls out yet again. _

_ Jamia runs. She finds Kristin near the door leading outside, makeup messed up. _

_ “Come on, let’s go!” Kristin says. “Mom’s only able to cover for us for so long.” _

_ “Cover?” Jamia asks as they head out the door and she follows Kristin back to the car. _

_ “Your mom called, wanted to know what we were doing. She said we were watching movies, but your mom wants you to call as soon as you can, so we’re gonna have to get home quick.” Kristin starts the car and pulls away from the curb. “Anyway… you were kissing a girl, Jay.” _

_ Jamia stills in her seat. _

_ “I thought you were into boys.” _

_ “I… I don’t know. She kissed me… but… I kinda liked it,” Jamia admits. _

_ “Who was she? Did she say?” _

_ “Lindsey,” Jamia says softly, the name feeling amazing on her tongue. “She’s the bassist for that band.” _

_ Kristin stares at her in shock. _

_ “No way! No way did Jamia Nestor kiss Lindsey fucking Ballato, coolest girl in Jersey’s punk scene ever!” _

_ Jamia blushes and looks at her feet. Kristin gasps. _

_ “Holy shit! Holy fuck! That’s amazing!” _

_ “She wants me to come on Sunday. But… I can’t convince my parents to let me go to your's on Sunday…” Jamia sighs. “I… I don’t know how I’ll be able to go.” _

_ Kristin seems to ponder this as she parks the car behind her parents’ one. _

_ “Maybe… maybe you’ll have to do the traditional sneak out, huh?” _

_ “I don’t have any cool clothes like you.” _

_ “Take those,” Kristin says flippantly as they get out. “Put them in the bottom of your backpack and hide them under all your long skirts.” _

_ Jamia, again, looks and feels unsure, but does so. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 1 of the lindsey/jamia love story


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should be studying for my exams. Not sure when another chapter will come out, at the latest it'll be in two weeks.

** _July 2015_ **

_ Jamia calls her mom when they get back from the show while Kristin wipes her makeup off. A bit of lipstick is glossed on her lips after Lindsey kissed her, but quite a bit of her makeup has either stayed in place or completely washed away due to sweat.  _

_ Kristin tries her best to remove it all while Jamia continues to reassure her mom that they were just watching the Disney films that she’d chosen before Jamia left.  _

_ “Your mom is so uptight, Jay,” Kristin tells her after Jamia hangs up. “No wonder you don’t do fun things.”  _

_ “Hey!” _

_ “It’s true, she doesn’t let you do anything!” _

_ Jamia just frowns, changing into her pyjamas and flopping down on Kristin’s bed. There’s enough room on it for the both of them and Jamia lies with her head at Kristin’s feet and feet near Kristin’s head, so it’s not awkward or anything. Kristin shrugs her off and switches off the light, and Jamia falls asleep almost instantly.  _

* * *

_ She ends up packing all her things and keeping the items from the night before right at the bottom of her bag, the things feeling heavier than they are when her mom asks how it was. She says that she had fun and that’s not a lie. She did. The concert was fun, which surprises her, and… and she really liked being with Lindsey, even if it was only for about ten minutes.  _

_ She’s going to go back. She knows it.  _

_ So, Sunday night comes quickly enough and soon Jamia’s parents are sending her off to bed. She didn’t ask what time the concert would start, and she hasn’t worked out how she is going to get there, but she locks her bedroom door, takes the clothes she hid, and puts them on quickly. Luckily, her room isn’t on the second floor like in all those films she’s seen at Kristin’s house, but instead, on the bottom floor. She’s also lucky her window opens as wide as it does, and so she sorta slips out and manages to land on her feet.  _

_ She doesn’t close it the whole way, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s summer, it isn’t like her room is going to get cold with a bit of fresh air. _

_ Her neighbourhood is scary at night. There’s no one around and the white picket fences are even more intimidating than during daylight hours, which is almost impossible to do.  _

_ The money she stole from her mom’s purse is stuck in the top pocket of the jeans, zipped up, and she uses it to catch a bus she’s worked out on her phone heads the right way towards the concert. It’s practically empty, but she curls up on herself anyway. _

_ The club the concert is in is even more terrifying than her own neighbourhood, but she pushes through the crowd anyway to the front and gazes up, her eyes immediately landing on Lindsey. She’s wearing another short, pleated skirt, but this time she’s wearing a red waistcoat and a black sleeveless top underneath that. Her hair is loose and free-flowing, but her ruby red lips are the same. And when Lindsey looks up from her bass, those lips stretch into a smile as she spots Jamia in the crowd.  _

_ After a bunch of songs, Jamia is exhausted, and Lindsey nods away from the stage before they wrap up. Jamia goes straight to the backdoor where they’d met up last time, Lindsey meeting her there.  _

_ She immediately grasps Jamia and kisses her for a few seconds before pulling away with a bright smile. Jamia blushes, biting her lip.  _

_ “You came!” _

_ “Yeah… had to sneak out…” Jamia gulps. “I hope my mom doesn’t notice.”  _

_ Lindsey looks at her incredulously, and then there’s a call from another band member and she takes Jamia’s hand. “Come on, come out back with me, please?”  _

_ Jamia just lets her lead her through the back door and into a sort of dressing room. A few band members are milling about, relaxing back, and Lindsey waves at them in acknowledgement before weaving her way around people and into another back room with no one else. Just them. It’s only then that Lindsey lets go of her hand, instead settling down on one of the couches and gesturing for Jamia to do the same. She hesitantly does.  _

_ “Your mom?” Lindsey asks. Jamia nods, embarrassed. Who still gets bossed around by their mom? _

_ “Yeah…” _

_ “How old are you?” _

_ Too young, probably. “Sixteen.” _

_ Lindsey shakes her head. “Oh… When I first saw you I thought you were older, and when you mentioned your mom I got scared you were younger. But, no, that’s fine. I’m nineteen.”  _

_ “Oh…” Jamia then twiddles her fingers. “So… what did you want to talk about?” _

_ Lindsey hums. “I dunno. It’s just… when I saw you in the crowd the other night, you just… you’re just so beautiful, you know? And everything in my brian just clicked and I knew I had to talk to you. Why did you come back?” _

_ “I… I promised. And plus… I had fun. I liked it…” She then begins to blush yet again. “I liked the kiss too…” _

_ Lindsey’s cheeks go pink and she covers her face. “Oh… that’s… oh my god, you… Can you just stay for-fucking-ever, you’re so sweet.” She jumps when Lindsey gets up and sits down next to her, placing her hand on top of Jamia’s.  _

_ Jamia gains the courage to lean in and kiss Lindsey’s lips gently before someone’s calling out for Lindsey and the bassist’s face sours.  _

_ “I thought we had more time,” she says sadly. “But… I have to go… how are you getting home? You didn’t come with your friend this time.” _

_ “Bus.” Jamia shrugs. “It’s how I got here.” _

_ “That’s dangerous this late.” Lindsey stands and pulls Jamia to her feet. “Come on, we can drop you home.”  _

_ Jamia begins to protest but is dragged through several doors and outside into an alley. She shuffles to cling to Lindsey’s arm as the older girl leads her down the alley and towards a van. They slide the door open and there’s two of Lindsey’s band members, a guy and a girl, sitting there, hanging out. Lindsey jumps in and then pulls Jamia in, settling her in her lap.  _

_ Jamia tries and fails not to blush. Lindsey just keeps her arms wrapped around Jamia as she gets Jamia to rattle off her address and the driver starts up the car.  _

_ “Is this… safe?” _

_ “Sure,” the drummer, who is sitting across from them, says. She grins as she holds out her hand. “I’m Kitty.”  _

_ The guitarist waves. “Steve.” _

_ “Jimmy’s in the front,” Lindsey tells her. “He’s our singer, you know?”  _

_ Jamia shrugs. As she watches out the window, they get closer to her house, Kitty cringes at what she sees. “You live… here?” _

_ Jamia frowns as she nods and Lindsey squeezes tighter. She glances outside for a second and sees that they’re heading down her street. “It’s that one.” She points once she sees it. Lindsey calls for the driver to pull over and then Lindsey hesitantly lets Jamia slide out of her lap and out of the van. Lindsey also jumps out, wrapping her arms around Jamia tightly.  _

_ “I’m sorry we couldn’t spend more time together after you snuck out just to see me.” Lindsey bites her lip. “I… I can come see you, maybe? During the day or night, doesn’t matter. We’re not playing anymore shows around here until next month, but we’ll be here for a few more days, if…” _

_ Jamia nods softly. “I… I can just say you’re a new friend from school or something. You just… I don’t know… Mom is picky about my friends. They need to be ‘presentable’. These aren’t mine.” She gestures to the clothes. “They’re my friends. She’s letting me borrow them because none of mine fit the whole ‘punk’ vibe.”  _

_ Lindsey sighs in understanding. “So, basically, I should dress as if I’m going to church.”  _

_ Jamia laughs despite herself. “Yeah.”  _

_ “Okay.” Then Lindsey leans over and kisses her deeply, wrapping an arm around her neck and another around Jamia’s waist. Jamia, in return, wraps her arms around Lindsey so her hands are clasped together behind her back.  _

_ They both pull back at the same time and Lindsey looks longingly at her as Kitty jumps out and pulls her back in, waving goodbye. Lindsey holds out her hand in a sad gesture, close to tears, and Jamia waves goodbye as well, looking down at her feet.  _

_ “I’ll be back! I promise!” Lindsey calls before the van’s door slides shut in front of her and the van tears down the street. Jamia rushes towards her house, easily opening the window, slipping inside, changing out of her punk clothes and into her pyjamas, hiding her punk clothes, and curling up in bed. She begins to cry, thinking of how upset Lindsey looked.  _

* * *

_ “Oh, I’m Jamia’s new friend from school.” Jamia blinks her eyes open. She must’ve fallen asleep after she got home from school. But… she didn’t make a new friend at school.  _

_ She jumps off her bed, smoothing down her skirt and blouse so her mom doesn’t realise she was sleeping and not doing her homework, and makes her way to the front door. At the door, her mom is talking to someone.  _

_ Jamia peeks around her mom and sees that someone is… _

_ “Lindsey?” _

_ “Hey, Jamia.” Lindsey waves with a smile. Her face is clear of any makeup, hair styled to simply sit flat and long. She wears a longer, dark skirt, going past her knees, with a long white shirt and a blue argyle sweater vest, smiling at her. Her tattoos are covered by the long sleeves, the cuffs tight around her wrists, with white socks and blue sneakers on her feet.  _

_ “Jamia, darling, is this a friend of yours from school? She says she is.” _

_ “Uh, yeah, she’s new.” Jamia nods quickly. “Can she come in?”  _

_ Her mother seems to consider for a moment before she nods. “Of course, sweetheart. I’m glad you're making some new friends, especially ones as lovely as this young lady is. What did you say your name was again?” _

_ “Lindsey, ma’am.” _

_ “Beautiful name, Lindsey.” _

_ “Thank you,” Lindsey says as Jamia’s mother lets her pass and Jamia leads her to her room. She shuts her bedroom door, slides her desk chair in front of it, hooking the back under the door handle like she’s seen in movies, and slides her curtains shut.  _

_ Lindsey smiles at her as she flicks the lights on and kisses her lightly.  _

_ “You know, I don’t know if you’re prettier now or in that leather jacket of yours.” _

_ “It’s my friend's jacket.” _

_ “No, no, it owns you, Jamia. It’s perfect on you, wouldn’t fit another single person.” Lindsey jumps onto Jamia’s bed and pats the spot beside her. “These churchy enough for you? We really had to dig to find these.”  _

_ Jamia nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah, they look…” _

_ “Good? Sweet, I’ll wear them to a show. What do you think about that?” _

_ “Maybe punk them up a little,” Jamia says ever so quietly. Lindsey lets out a laugh.  _

_ “Of course.” Lindsey wraps her arm around Jamia’s waist. “Come ‘ere, I wanna cuddle you.” _

_ Jamia presses against her side.  _

_ “What’ll happen when you leave?” She whispers. Lindsey frowns down at her.  _

_ “What do you mean?” She asks.  _

_ “Well, you’re leaving in a few days, aren’t you? Will you forget about me? Little ol’ Jamia Nestor, the goody-two-shoes who snuck out so she wouldn’t look like a loser.”  _

_ Lindsey presses her face into Jamia’s hair, whining a little. “No. I will never forget you, Jamia. I will come back for you every single time.”  _

_ Jamia closes her eyes. “Will you?” _

_ She gets what she thinks is a ‘yes’ back, but it’s hard to tell with Lindsey murmuring into her hair. Lindsey then pulls back, looking at her completely seriously. “I wanna marry you one day, Jamia Nestor.” _

_ Jamia’s eyes widen. “You… you don’t mean that.” _

_ “I do! I’ll… I’ll get you outta here, you can run away with me and be with me and the band and come with us to New York. And we can travel the world together.” Lindsey springs off the bed and onto her knees in front of Jamia, taking her hands and pleading.  _

_ “I… I only just met you on Friday.” _

_ “I know, I know, it’s just… you’re everything to me, Jamia. Everything.” _

_ Jamia bites her lip. And then she leans forward and kisses Lindsey gently. “Okay… one day, I will.”  _

_ Lindsey immediately brightens.  _

_ “Jamia! Your friend has to go now!” Jamia hears her mother call. She moves the chair and opens the door. They both end up at the front door at the same time, where Steve waits there, a serious face on.  _

_ “Dad!” Lindsey greets and winks at Jamia. Steve nods to Jamia and then shakes Jamia’s mom’s hand.  _

_ “Bye Jamia! I can’t wait to see you tomorrow at school.” She’s laying it on a bit thick now, but Jamia just smiles and waves goodbye as Lindsey hops down the steps with Steve following behind her, to another vehicle that Jamia hasn’t seen. It’s much more ‘normal’ than the van would have been. They really planned this out, didn’t they?  _

_ Jamia is flattered.  _

* * *

_ Jamia’s mother allows Lindsey to sleepover on Friday, and they spend the whole time in her room, talking and occasionally kissing, and telling their stories. Lindsey’s parents were musicians and they encouraged her from a young age to play. She joined up with her band and they’ve been touring the country in their old van, playing for massive audiences in crowded bars.  _

_ “Why me?” _

_   
_ _ “I told you, something just… clicked. It’s you. No one else. Just you.” Lindsey strokes Jamia’s hair. “Now, c’mon, your mom is gonna expect us to be asleep.” _

_ Jamia rolls over, cursing the fact that she can’t just curl up with Lindsey. She wants to. She really wants to.  _

_ Within half an hour, Lindsey is asleep, but Jamia is still wide awake. Which is when she hears Lindsey start to talk in her sleep.  _

** _“Why her?”_ **

** _“I love her, you know.”_ **

** _“Of course, does he know?’_ **

** _  
_ ** ** _“No?”_ **

** _“His brother is out there, you want me to find him?”_ **

** _“I don’t even know his name.”_ **

** _“Mike? No? Mikey? Ah, Mikey.”_ **

** _“Okay, okay, I’ll find him. I’ll find him. It’s just, I love her. She can… you put her on the list, right? Yes? Good. Thank fuck.”_ **

_ Lindsey then goes back to her deep breaths of sleep and Jamia frowns. Bad dream? _

_ She doesn’t ask in the morning. _

* * *

** _September 2015_ **

_ “Mom!” Jamia shrieks. Lindsey pulls back quickly, covering her mouth as Jamia’s mother does the same.  _

_ “You!” Her mom struggles to form sentences. “You wicked… you corrupted her!” _

_ “Mom! Leave her alone! She didn’t do anything. She… she loves me! And I love her!” Jamia pleads as her mom stalks up to Lindsey, who, instead of backing away, stands her ground.  _

_ “I love her, Mrs Nestor. And she loves me!” _

_ “Get. Out.” Jamia’s mother kicks at Lindsey, hissing. “And never come back!”  _

_ Lindsey runs out in tears and Jamia runs to her room, crying.  _

_ “I hate you, mom!” She yells when the front door slams shut. “I hate you so much!” _

* * *

** _October 2016_ **

_ “Jay! Jay! Listen!”  _

_ “I don’t care about some older boy who asked you out, Kristin.” Jamia rolls her eyes. “It probably didn't happen.”’ _

_ “No! It did! But, this isn’t about that! No, no, this is about Lindsey.” _

_ Jamia’s head perks up. “What?” _

_ “She’s got some contacts that come all the way back to me, so she to give you this.” She holds out a letter. It’s got her name on it, but nothing else.  _

_ Jamia snatches it up, her lips quivering as she takes in the handwriting. She fingers the envelope open and pulls the folded up paper out, reading.  _

** _Dear my darling Jamia_ **

** _I miss you. Fuck, I miss you so much. I hate that your mom caught us. _ **

** _I’m based in New York right now. I want you here with me._ **

** _I want you to run away and be with me._ **

** _We could do what I said._ **

** _Travel the world, conquer it if we have to._ **

** _Please? _ **

** _Kristin, your friend, would have been the one to give this to you, so tell her thank you. I have a plan._ **

** _You can catch the midnight train to New York on Halloween / 1st Nov and I’ll meet you at the train station._ **

** _I want you to be with me. Safe. Here. _ **

** _Get Kristin to send a small note with your answer. She just needs to send it to Crista, who she should already know._ **

** _Love, yours always, Lindsey_ **

  
  


_ The end is signed with a heart and Jamia blinks back tears. She tears off a piece of paper from her notepad and writes a short reply before giving it to Kristin.  _

_ “Send it to Crista. That’s what she said.” _

_ Kristin pats her head. “Okay. Okay, I will.” _

* * *

**October 2016**

“And that’s my story, what about you.”

Mikey stares at her, wide-eyed. 

“Who knew Kristin had contacts in, what, the music mafia?”

Jamia laughs. “Not me… wait, are you the older boy who asked her out?”

“I didn’t ask her out, not really, just to get my friends to fuck off.”

“She goes on and on about it, you know.” He shrugs her comment off. 

But, as she watches him relax back, she thinks back to that night when Lindsey stayed over. 

** _“Mike? No? Mikey?”_ **

Jamia makes it her goal to find out what exactly is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go wild with your theories, guys, I like reading them.
> 
> Song for this chapter  
Devil Town - Cavetown


	10. Chapter 10

**November 2016**

Midnight clicks over and the clocks all reset as Mikey is wrapping up his story. The train pulls into Hoboken as Jamia wipes her eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she whispers, taking his hand. “I shouldn’t have made you talk about that.”

“It’s alright. It’s nice to finally talk to someone who wasn’t really involved. I can’t even talk to Brendon or those guys because they’re friends with Pete and my parents are completely out of the question.”   
  


Jamia smiles. “I’m happy to help, you know where you’re going once we get to New York. Lindsey said they’re gonna pick me up.” 

“Not a fucking clue. Speaking of which, I should try calling Bob again.” He pulls out his phone and dials the number quickly. It goes straight to voicemail. 

He sighs, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Damn.”

“You wanna come with me?” Jamia asks and he shrugs.

“Until Bob calls me back, I literally have no clue what I’m doing. My parents are probably going to wake up and freak the fuck out, you know.” He runs a hand through his hair. He recently dyed it blond and shaved the sides and it still feels weird to him. The bleach has messed up his hair a little, but he guesses that’s what you get when you literally almost kill your hair. “So, sure. As long as your friends are cool with it.”

Jamia nods. “They probably will be, you’re a cool guy and you play, and I’ll tell them that you’re okay so it’ll be fine.” 

He shrugs again. “If they’re not happy with it, I’ll just stick around the station and try calling my friend again. And again. And again.”

Just as he says this, they pull into the final stop and Jamia stands up, Mikey following her. He hadn’t noticed, but the middle-aged woman had gotten off at the stop previous, and the old man got off at the stop before Hoboken, so it’s just the two of them in the car. 

As soon as the train stops and the doors slide open, Jamia jumps out and Mikey hops onto the platform behind her, wobbling slightly. A girl with pigtails in a short skirt and white button-up with the top button undone, is leaning up against the wall until she spots Jamia. She runs forwards and envelopes Jamia in her arms. Mikey stays back until Jamia runs over to him and drags him forward towards the girl. 

“Lyn-z, meet Mikey.” 

The girl, who Mikey assumes is Lindsey, looks him up and down and then holds out her hand for him to shake. 

  
“Where did she pick you up from?”

“Oh, he’s just here to find his friend and make sure he’s okay. He goes to my school, he knows Kristin,” Jamia tells her. “But he doesn’t know where his friend is so he just has to keep trying to call.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to get onto him soon,” Mikey sighs. “I don’t know.” He shrugs and sets himself down in one of the seats overlooking the tracks, taking out his phone again and dialling Bob’s number yet again. Jamia and Lindsey both give him sad looks and Jamia whispers to Lindsey, but honestly, he doesn’t care. He just wants to find Bob. 

“C’mon, fuck, pick up, please,” he hisses. As it clicks to voicemail again, he hangs up and the phone falls out of his hand and drops into his lap. 

He runs his fingers through his hair again as he notes someone sitting next to him. He expects it to be Jamia, so he’s surprised when he looks up to see Lindsey. 

  
“Hey, Jay said you didn’t have anywhere to go until your buddy answers you, so, you wanna ride with us?”

Mikey looks at her and then shrugs. “Something to do, I guess. I was pretty stupid just coming out here without a plan.”

“Nah,” Lindsey hums and helps him up. He smiles softly as she practically drags him out of the station. “You were worried, ‘bout your friend. So you left without thinking. I get that.” 

They don’t talk for the rest of the way, but having the two girls flank his sides as his exhaustion and stress begins to overtake him. He’d already had a rough day, cried multiple times, almost fucked up his fingers with how much he was playing his bass, and he hadn’t had enough sleep in his whole fucking life to not be worn out by this point. 

Taking into account the stress with Bob, the fact that he’s extremely far from home with two people who are practically strangers, and the fact that it’s only just gone fucking midnight, all he wants to do is drop to the ground and sleep. 

He doesn’t like thinking of passing out though, of just dropping. Because that just reminds him of… the 31st. 

Halloween is so fucked up for him, isn’t it? He’s sure he’s realised this before, but it’s coming back to him at a very impractical time. Gerard died, Ray died, he’s had to live with those two coinciding deaths for many fucked up years. No wonder he’s this stupid to go all the way to fucking New York, at midnight, in his pyjama shirt and a pair of jeans and a light hoodie at the end of Fall, with only his phone, wallet, and keys, and not informed his parents about any of this. Oh, and, has he mentioned, he has no fucking clue where he’s going. 

“Mikey?”

He blinks out of his thoughts at Jamia’s voice. 

“Uh, yeah?”

“You blanked out on us for a second,” Lindsey tells him. He sighs. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem. I… I’m sure you’re just tired.” Lindsey leads both of them to a van and a little voice in the back of Mikey’s head is telling him they might be kidnapping him, but he shakes it off. Who cares anyway? Why should he care?

He sits in the van as Lindsey and Jamia slide in next to him. Lindsey’s arm rests around Jamia’s shoulders, but her other hand is resting lightly on Mikey’s thigh and she gives him a sympathetic look. He accepts her form of comfort with a slight nod and then shuts his eyes as they drive off. 

The buzzing of his phone awakens him. He’s disoriented for a moment before everything comes back to him and he fishes out his phone from his pocket. 

Looking around, he’s still in the van, and he’s not tied up, which is a plus. Lindsey and Jamia are gone, and the van door is shut, but light shimmers in from the window beside him. 

Morning. 

He answers the phone without checking the number or time and blinks away any remaining drowsiness. 

“Hello?”

“Michael!” Ouch. His mom. 

“Hi, mom.”

“Where are you?!” She sounds hysterical, although she seems to have calmed down now that he’s actually answered her. 

“In New York, I think.”

There’s a pause and then. 

“Oh, dear, why… did you already hear about…?”

Everything goes cold and he freezes. 

“Hear about what?”

His mom seems to freeze down the other end of the line. 

  
“Darling, just… how did you get to New York? When?”

“Almost midnight train. Made a friend, slept in her and her friend's van. Just woke up. What the fuck are you talking about, mom?” He hisses. The van door slides open and Lindsey crawls across the seats until she’s sitting next to him and it’s only now that he realises he’s shaking with anxiety and stress. 

“I’m sorry… it’s about Bob. It’s just… they found his body at around three this morning. They tried calling you, since you were the only one under a contact that wasn’t his parents and his parents… well… they’re not around anymore either.” She sounds like she’s trying not to cry but he just doesn’t feel anything as she continues. “He was killed, and the cops, they tried calling you because you were also the last person he called and likely called around the same time he died, and they looked back through your texts, found my number, and called me.”

“We couldn’t find you…” She hiccups. “I went to your room first, but you weren’t there. And then I went into the basement but you’d gone and you’d taken your wallet and phone with you. We… we were so worried about you.”

“I gotta go, mom.” His voice comes out monotone, unfeeling, and then he hangs up and collapses in on himself, beginning to cry. 

He doesn’t even notice as Lindsey, Jamia, and some other guy with a beard, pull him out of the van and set him down on an old couch with questionable stains on one side. He curls up with his head to his knees and just sobs, loudly and unashamedly, not caring anymore. 

He hangs around in New York for a few days, ignoring his parents' phone calls but sending them a text message every day so that they’re aware that, yes, he’s still alive. 

He gets to know all of Lindsey’s friends. Jimmy, Kitty, Steve, Crista, and even Breezy and her boyfriends Ryan Seaman and Dallon. He’s shocked when he meets Dallon and recognises him as that kid that used to be best friends with the vegas boys, Brendon, Ryan, and Spencer. They’d said that Dallon’s family had moved to Utah before they’d moved out of Vegas. 

“You’re Dallon Weekes?” Mikey asks with wide eyes. Dallon nods, frowning in confusion. 

“Yeah?”

“Did you grow up in Vegas and move to Salt Lake City?”

Dallon squints at him. “Yes…” He says slowly. “Why? And how…?”

“You were friends with Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross, and Spencer Smith.” 

Dallon freezes. “How did you… You know them?!”   
  
Mikey nods quickly. “I go to school with them. In New Jersey.”

“They moved to Jersey?” Dallon frowns. He runs his hand through his hair as Ryan Seaman, Dallon’s boyfriend, wraps his arm around Dallon’s waist. Breezy looks over at them, concerned.    
  


“I can give you Brendon’s number if you want.”

“Please.” Dallon has a sort of pleading look in his eyes. He pulls out his phone the same time Mikey does and Mikey holds up his mobile while Dallon copies the number down into his own. 

Mikey listens as Dallon rings Brendon, handshaking. Ryan S. squeezes him in reassurance. 

**“Hello?”**

“Fuck… Brendon?” 

The line goes quiet and then a soft… 

**“Dallon? Is… is that you?”**

Dallon gulps and nods. “Yeah… yeah, it’s me. I got your number from Mikey.”

  
**“Mikey! Oh my god, is he alright? He hasn’t been answering any of our calls.”**

Dallon gives him a look and Mikey shrugs. 

“Get one of the others to give him a call. I… can we talk dude?”

**“Okay. Yeah, of course, we can talk. Fuck, I’ve missed you dude.”**

“Same, Brendon.”

Mikey’s phone begins to ring from where he’d put it in his pocket and Mikey groans, giving Dallon a look back and then walking off. 

“Hello?”

“Mikey!” It’s Ryan. “Hey, Brendon told me to call you. Where are you? I heard what happened with…” He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. “Anyway, why’s Brendon freaking out? Do you know?”

“Yeah. I’m in New York. I may have given his number to a guy called Dallon Weekes.”

Ryan goes quiet. “Wait… you found him? In New York?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” Ryan trails off. “When are you coming back to Jersey. I’m pretty sure your folks are freaking out still.”

“Of course they are,” Mikey mutters under his breath before speaking up. “Soon. When I’m ready I guess. It’s nice, up here. I’ve made some friends.” 

Him and Ryan shift onto less uncomfortable topics, Mikey talking about his time with the band. Jamia had let it slip to Lindsey that he played bass and now they're constantly practising together, giving each other tips and such. 

It’s nice. To get away from all the pain and grief he’s had in his life. To just forget about it for a little while. 

He’s not sure how long this will last though.

* * *

**October 2016**

Bob doesn’t know where he is. He does know one thing, though. 

He’s dead. 

He doesn’t want to think about the intricacies, just the fact that he was killed alongside his parents. Instead, he’s more concerned with the now. Like… the sky is grey, the skyline is full of crumbling buildings, there’s the smell of ash in the air. 

The city in front of him is black and white and grey and is completely devoid of colour. 

“Hello, Drummer.” A hand lands on his arm and he turns sharply to see a girl standing there, with dark hair and a black skirt and old military jacket on top with the sleeves cut off. She’s staring at him with empty eyes. “I am Fear.”

“I didn’t…”

“You were going to ask, Drummer. You all do.”

“I’m Bob.”

“You are the Drummer, so I will call you by your title, instead of your name. The only ones allowed are the one free will ones.” She takes his hand and begins to lead him. And damn she is strong. 

“The free will ones?”

She gestures around them, where groups of people of every type have gathered. They all look to the ground. “The ones around us are empty. They haven’t retained their true free will. Once the parade begins to march, only then will they come back.”

He frowns. “The parade?”

“You and the others will lead the parade. Of course, the Leader will be front and centre, but you will have your place.”

“The Leader?”   
  


She doesn’t answer him, instead pulling harder, walking faster. He stumbles trying to keep up with her and calls loudly out into the sea of soulless wanderers. 

“Leader!”

The sea parts as a man runs through to meet them. He’s only slightly older than Bob, but he looks familiar. So. Fucking. Familiar. 

“Fear.” He nods, smiling with unsureness in his eyes. “Who’s this?”

“The Drummer.” She pushes him forward.    
  


“I’m Bob,” Bob introduces himself and the Leader holds out his hand to shake.    
  


“Gerard.”

Oh… that’s why he’s familiar. Bob’s seen this face, albeit younger, in photos all over Mikey’s two rooms. 

The Leader… is Mikey’s elder brother. Mikey’s dead elder brother. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be out by at least the end of next week.
> 
> Song for this chapter  
Uprising - Muse


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta read
> 
> hope you enjoy, this may be a little heavy at the end

**January 2017**

“What the fuck is this?” Pete asks as he steps into Mikey’s bedroom. A wall is covered in newspaper clippings and old photographs and printed documents. He squints at one and frowns. “I thought you were over this whole Halloween thing.”

“There’s something… something I need to... I need to…” Mikey mutters under his breath, spinning around to grab another piece of paper and tack it to the wall. “I… I need…”

“You need to fucking sit down, Mikey.” Pete grabs Mikey’s arm and forces him to sit on the bed. Mikey shakes in his grasp. 

“I’m… I’m so fucking close, Pete. There’s just something tiny missing.”

“The police couldn’t figure out who did it, so why could you?”

“I… I don’t… I can do this, Pete. I can…”   


Pete hasn’t seen Mikey like this before. He’s so shaky and anxious and stressed and alert. He can’t relax. 

He’s solving a murder case. Not Bob’s, the cops had solved that one, something about a political statement. It still fucks him up thinking about it. But Mikey decided he needs to solve this one case about a kid who died the same day his brother did. In the same state, same town. It’s been unsolved for years but Mikey is convinced he can solve it. 

Oddly enough, he’s getting closer than any detective had in a long time. 

“You need to sleep. You can’t just live off coffee and determination, Mikey.”

Mikey screws up his face. “You sound like mom.”

“Your mom wouldn’t say that, Mikey.” Pete sets himself down next to Mikey, patting his shoulder. “She does whatever you want her to, dude.” 

Mikey bites his lip. “I know.” And then his eyes widen and he springs from the bed. 

“Mikey?!” 

“I’ve got it!” He cries out. Pete’s confusion only lasts as long as it takes him to see what Mikey is messing about with. It’s the papers again. 

“You’ve got it?”   


“I’ve figured it out. I know who killed him!” 

* * *

**November 2016**

“You’re Mikey’s brother.”

Gerard freezes in place. The Drummer, Bob, looks at him in recognition. 

“Mikey…?” Gerard whispers slowly. 

“Mikey Way, you’re his elder brother, right?”

Gerard blinks back tears at the thought of his little brother and nods slowly. 

“Yeah, I am. Who…?” 

“I was his friend. Him and Ray…”   


Gerard’s eyes light up. Of course. He needs to get Ray and Bob to meet right now. 

“Come! Come with me!” Gerard grasps his arm and Bob doesn’t resist as Gerard drags him down the path cleared by the crowd to the float. He then clambers up and Bob hesitantly follows his lead. Frank jumps at his sudden appearance. “Frank! Frank! Get Ray!” He cries out and Bob seems to pause. 

Frank hops to his feet, shooting Bob a quick grin before he launches himself off the back of the float and runs across the grey street, jumping and grasping the outside of one of the buildings and climbing up the wall until he gets to the second-story window. He throws himself inside and jumps out a second later. 

_ “When you broke your foot jumping out the second floor.” _

A few moments later, Ray pokes his head out the window and seems to immediately make eye contact with Bob. He climbs down much slower and is careful at every step, whereas Frank has finally picked himself up from the ground and rushed back over, wrapping his arms around Gerard happily. 

Ray pulls himself up onto the float not long after and he and Bob share a few moments of calm silence, looking each other up and down. And then, slowly, Ray opens his arms wide and he hugs Bob gently. 

Frank shakes with energy and excitement in Gerard’s arms and he grins over at Bob, who simply stares at everything around them. 

“Welcome, Bob,” Gerard says once Ray and Bob have broken apart. “Welcome to the Black Parade. I am Gerard or the Leader. This is Frank, or the Rhythmist, Ray, who you already know, is the Guitarist. And you, Bob, are the Drummer.” 

Bob nods to him. “The Black Parade, huh?”

“Yep!” Frank grins. “The Black Parade. Though, unfortunately, we can’t take credit for that name.” He frowns. “Anyway, who wants to swap life stories again? You guys need to catch me up all the fucking time.” 

Gerard pushes Frank to the ground and lowers himself down next to him slowly. Ray and Bob join them and they sit in a sort of wonky circle. Frank leans his head on Gerard’s shoulder as he gazes over at Bob. 

“You go first, big guy.”

Bob sighs. “I was Ray and Mikey’s friend.” 

Frank’s eyes light up. “I’ve heard a lot about Mikey. I can’t wait to meet him. But… actually I can, rather not him be down here, ya know?”

Gerard rubs Frank’s back as the boy gets out of breath and drops his head into Gerard’s lap.    


“Sorry, he’s not feeling well at the moment. It happens sometimes. Something about needing the Bassist to smooth things out. It happens to all of us, but Frankie most of all.” 

Bob seems to take note of this in his head and then Ray pipes up. 

“How is he?”

Bob pauses. “Mikey?”

“Yeah.”

Gerard idly runs his fingers through Frank’s fauxhawk and listens. 

“He’s good… I think. He’s eighteen, but you guys already knew that.”

“Has he made any friends?” Ray asks. 

“Yeah, ones in his own grade even. A guy named Pete kept pestering him until he hung out with Pete and his friends. They sorta accepted him into their little circle. So, he’s okay, I think. Fuck, I didn’t want to do this to him.”

“It sucks, dying, doesn’t it?” Gerard mumbles. Bob nods. 

“It really does.” 

“Fuck dying!” Frank cries out and Gerard pats him on the head. “So, how did you die, big guy?” Frank asks, twisting in Gerard’s lap to face Bob. 

“Me and my parents were shot, you know, Batman-style. Except, the son isn’t actually a kid and doesn’t survive.” Gerard cringes. 

“So you were murdered too, huh? Wow, we’re twinsies! But, you’re like, what, twenty-five?”

“I’m almost twenty-one.”

“Oh… you look older. But, anyway, You’re like… just over ten years older than  _ I _ was.” 

Gerard pats him on the head soothingly.

“Speaking of which, happy 17th birthday to me!” 

“You’re birthday’s over now. Midnight’s already hit,” Gerard tells him. 

“Has it?”

Bob raises his eyebrows. “It has?” 

“Yeah. This place works on my time, I think.”

“Go back to my birthday!” Frank whines. 

“Not that way! It’s… I can control what time it is, day or night. You know this, Frankie.” 

Frank frowns, looking up at Gerard again. “I… I need to sleep now…”   


Gerard simply nods and the boy almost instantly falls asleep. Smiling softly, Gerard continues to run his hand through Frank’s hair and sigh. 

“What the fuck is up with him?”

“I told you, something about balance. Expect it to happen to you too, but not to the degree that he is. He’d turned ten the day he turned up, so I think it’s somewhat based on age. I’m next, then Ray.”   
  


“So it makes sense that it’s off age, not personality,” Ray says. Gerard sends him a soft smile before turning his attention back to Bob. 

“He’ll be back to his normal self later. He’s really a gentle, caring soul, you know?” Gerard looks off into the distance. “Oh, grandma is back. That’s good. You must’ve known her in life, yeah?”

“Elena?”

“Yeah,” Gerard confirms and then waves, a figure in the distance waving back. 

“Wait… you guys are older than when you died.” 

Gerard nods. “We keep growing until the band is complete. We’re waiting on the Bassist now that you’ve turned up.” 

“Who’s the-”

“We don’t know. We never know…” Ray trails off as Elena pulls herself up onto the float gracefully. 

“Gerard, Ray,” she greets and then looks disdainfully down at Frank. “He ill again?”   
  


“Tired. Anyway, Grandma, this is Bob!” Gerard gestures and Bob smiles up at her. Her face goes soft as she recognises him. 

  
“Oh dear, what are you doing here?”

Bob shrugs. “What do you think happened?” She swats him on the arm. Bob then sighs. “Mikey misses you guys, you know? He really does.” 

They all look down and Elena pats Bob on the head. “Thank you for looking after him for so long, darling. Thank you.”

* * *

**November 2016**

Frank Anthony Iero Sr. can say he regrets what he did. His son, a little boy with a sweet, innocent face, had stayed that. A little boy. 

Seven whole years ago, that boy had been buried deep in the ground, eyes closed and lips resting in a thin line. His mother had poured her heart out at the funeral, crying giant tears and curling upon herself. An act, he knows it. 

You see, when little Frank Jr. has been born, Linda Iero had been the sweetest woman ever. She’d loved her son and husband as much as she possibly could. 

But… as the years went on, she became twisted and corrupt, and she started to  _ hurt _ little Frankie. When Frank Jr. turned four, she went wild and kicked Frank Sr. out of her house, out of her and their son’s lives. 

Frank Sr. hated the face his poor son made when he watched her scream at his father. 

She began to torture her son, but not in ways of which would be noticeable. She made him sick, forced him in and out of hospitals and dosed him up on medications he didn’t need. Frank Sr. tried his hardest to find his son, to try and help him, but the poor boy couldn’t escape his mother’s clutches. 

He knew she’d painted him in a bad light to their son. She’d made him into the bad guy that didn’t want little Frankie to  _ get better _ . 

But Frank just tried, again and again, to help his poor boy out of the situation with little success. 

Until he came up with an idea. An idea he will probably forever regret, somewhat. The intent, the reasons, they’re all genuine, he doesn’t regret those. The method, he does regret that. 

What he did was kill his little boy. Frank Anthony Iero Jr. was killed by his father on his tenth birthday, Halloween 2009. 

But, he didn’t kill him in  _ cold blood _ as many detectives and cops say, he killed him because he wanted to  _ save _ him. A life suffering under his mother, her forcing him to feel ill, to be sick, simply so she could control every waking out of his life, deceiving him until the day he dies. Frank Sr. couldn’t let that happen to his son. So he set him  _ free. _

He tells himself that every time his son’s birthday, and the anniversary of his death comes around. He says to himself that he’s not a bad person, he just wanted what was best for his son, to stay pure and young and naive and happy for all of eternity. He doubts he would ever be able to be caught. It’s been seven years, they haven’t caught him yet. 

Until they do. 

* * *

**January 2017**

He confesses to the crime, not because he feels guilty, but because he doesn’t see any need to deny it. To lie. 

He’s unsure as to who figured him out. Some, Michael Way, a detective Frank Sr.’s never heard of, probably. Someone who picked up his case and managed to figure out what many others hadn’t. 

The  _ detective _ is sent to meet Frank Sr. in an interrogation room. A safe space for them to interact. Frank doesn’t want to speak to any ‘Michael Way’. He doesn’t want to speak to yet another officer or detective who decides they’re better than him. 

“Frank Iero Sr.?” A voice comes to him from where the door had been opened and shut again. A… a teenage boy is standing there, all lanky limbs and blond hair. The boy settles himself down in front of Frank, and it strikes Frank at how his son would only be a year younger than this boy. 

“Yes,” he answers curtly and the boy nods. 

“Michael Way,” he says, nodding to Frank. 

“You…”

“I’m the one who solved your case, Mr Iero.” Michael crosses his arms. His eyes look dead as Frank peers into them. 

“You’re pretty young to be a detective. How old are you?” 

“I’m not a detective. I’m not even an officer,” Michael hums. “And I am eighteen.” 

Frank studies the boy for a moment. He looks exhausted, and not quite satisfied. Like he’s missing something. 

“If you’re no cop, then-”

“How did I solve your case? Or why did I?” Michael settles back in his seat. “Both very interesting questions, Mr Iero. I’ll only answer one, so which do you want?” 

“Why?” Frank softly asks and Michael smiles at him ever so gently. It’s like he doesn’t even see Frank as a killer, which they both know he is. Michael is so at ease with Frank that it scares him. 

“October 31st 2009. Halloween has always been a day I’ve been infatuated with. It’s continued to haunt me, you know. That day, seven years ago.” Michael sits up, setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. “I’ve lost a lot in my years, Mr Iero. You may brush me off, thinking that I may have lost something pathetic. A girlfriend who broke up with me, a friend who turned on me. Never.”

“I’ve actually lost four people if I count right. I’ve had four absolutely painful days in my life and three of those fall on Halloween. And one falls right on that day. The exact day you killed your son, again, I’ll remind you, seven years ago.” 

Frank listens carefully as Michael continues on. 

“He was  _ fourteen _ . Fourteen years is a long time, you know? In that time you learn to walk, talk, read, write. But… you also learn how to think, how to love, how to care. He cared. He cared a whole heap about everyone he loved. He loved me. He loved mother. He loved father. He loved grandma. He loved more than anyone ever could after he went.”

Frank narrows his eyes.    
  


“My brother, Gerard, he was an artist. He left paintings upon paintings and poems upon poems. Lyrics upon lyrics and music upon music. A genius, he was destined for great things. Seems tragedy doesn’t care whether you want something in life or not. He died, that day, October 31st 2009, perhaps a few hours before your own son died, at your hand of course. My brother may have died of disease, but yours was killed. Poor boy.” Michael looks out the tiny, tiny window and seems to think. 

“I’ve lost my lover to a car crash, my grandmother to old age. And now, barely two months after his death, I sit here, thinking about my friend that was gunned down beside his mother and father. A nice man, who cared for me as people figuratively, and literally in my brother’s case, have dropped dead around me. And it spurred me on, you know, to find out as much as I could about that day, about all the deaths and murders that happened on Halloween. And that’s how your little,  _ unsolved _ case came on my radar. And the more I dug, the more I became invested.”   
  


“And I thought that when I’d finally figured you out that I’d feel… relieved… free maybe? But… I don’t feel any different. A shame really. But, at least you’ll be put away, and your son can rest in relative peace, I guess.” 

Frank can’t say anything. He can’t speak as Michael stares right into his soul. 

“I wonder if you’ve thought about it. You mentioned in your confession that it was because you wanted him to be free from future torture and fear and you wanted to keep that innocence and purity. But… I give you this little thing to think on. My brother… what I wouldn’t give to have him back… let’s think of what he would’ve done with his life so far if he was still here. Well…”

“He was three years older than me. So he’d be twenty-one, almost twenty-two. He’d be above the legal drinking age, though who’s to say he wasn’t already knocking back shots at seventeen, coincidentally the same age as your son. I wonder, we lived in the same town, I may have been little Frankie’s friend, perhaps. But… my brother… he’d have gone to art school, maybe one in New York, the big city. He’d wanted to do comic books, but also he’d had this absolute passion for music that would knock you on your feet if you ever saw it. Maybe he would be in a band with me. He might have given me that guitar he promised me. He would have graduated high school, don’t forget. He might’ve driven me to school every day when he got his license, you know, like the good big brother he was.” 

“By twenty-one, he must’ve at least kissed someone, whether boy or girl. Boy, probably. You know what would’ve been funny, if your son and my brother had hooked up. Oh, boy, that would’ve been the nicest thing, you know. Gerard and Frank, wow, that has a ring to it. A ring, maybe Gerard would have proposed, he was always very impatient about those types of things. He’d want to marry the first person he fell in love with. Imagine your little Frankie coming home with an itty bitty little ring on his left hand, sixteen years old and crying out for you to bless their marriage. Imagine that.” 

“So, how about you do this with me? Huh? Let’s say you went about this a different way. You decided that, instead of killing your son, you would work your fucking ass off to find all the evidence you could that his mother was drugging him. Let’s say you prove that she’s guilty and gain full custody over your son. He would grow up with his father, admiring your skills as a musician and a person. He’d want to grow up to be like you, right? He might’ve attended my school, I might’ve become his friend, maybe even his best friend? Me and him, attached at the hip, huh? And then he meets my big brother and they fall in love and I say it’s gross but I actually think it’s super sweet that both of them are happy.”

“He might’ve joined me and my brother and my boyfriend and my best friend as musicians. We might’ve started a band, huh? Had lots of fun playing and we might’ve been good enough to make it big.”

“Right now, he could be fucking my brother in the basement, and I could be covering my ears with my pillow to stifle the sound of my brother’s moans. And he’d be happy, yeah? Very happy.”

Michael stands up, setting his palms down to the table and sighing. 

“Sad how things really played out, huh? Really fucking sad.”

Frank can only watch, mouth hanging open and eyes wide as Michael strides over to the door and knocks, being let out almost instantly by the guards outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes, i need to stop writing monologues. i know it's because i did a whole assessment on them in my drama class, but god damn it.
> 
> Song Lyric from I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
> 
> Song for this chapter   
Attention Reader - Pencey Prep  
(Only on the youtube playlist)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little late in posting this due to procrastination, but hopefully, the next chapter won't take as long. 
> 
> ONLY 20 DAYS UNTIL THE REUNION
> 
> oh and only 23 days (for me) until Christmas but whatever
> 
> Anyway, hope you like this chapter.

**March 2017**

It doesn’t sound quite right, Gerard knows it. It’s missing a vital element. The bass. Even still, they continue to play and kick up the dust. The people have returned into the relative safety of the broken buildings as fire begins to rage behind them. He’s screaming into the microphone as Frank’s fingers fly across his guitar. He falls to the ground, still playing as he lies on his back before spring to his feet and bashing his head into Gerard’s side, grounding his sweaty forehead into Gerard’s ribs and all the way down to his hip. As Gerard cries out another lyric, Frank screams into the mic.

He’s pissed. 

Gerard reaches with one hand and wraps his arm around Frank’s waist as the Rhythmist screams and cries beside him, bloodying up his fingers in the process. As they round off the song, Frank pulls away and Gerard drops to his knees with wide eyes, choked up and unable to breathe. He runs his hands through his hair, shorter and lighter, so much lighter. As he finishes the last little lyric, he crumbles to the ground too. Frank’s guitar slips from his grip and Gerard crawls over as the younger boy shakes and shivers. 

“Frankie?” Gerard mumbles as he wipes up the red stains under Frank’s eyes where he’d used his bloody hands to wipe away tears. He then lets his jacket - of which the corner is now coated in a layer of crimson, barely seen amidst the black - swing down to his side and he wraps his arms around Frank. “Frankie, what’s wrong?”

“Mama,” he mutters. He then pushes the top of his head into Gerard’s shoulders, whining. “Mama, she-she’s here.” 

Gerard runs a slow hand through Frank’s hair. “It’ll be okay, baby. We… we can go see her.”

Frank roughly shakes his head. “She… she did this!” He hisses. “She…” He looks up at Gerard with a venomous scowl. “She. Made. Me. Sick.” 

* * *

**October 2005**

_ “How are you feeling, baby?” Linda is gentle with her son. She loves him so much, she couldn’t bear to part with him. Her heart and soul went into him, and she won’t let him go. She runs her hand through his hair and kisses him on the forehead as he coughs.  _

_ It’s wrong. She knows that. Drugging him, hurting him, making him sick. It’s wrong, it’s bad, it’s not loving. _

_ But she always does it, because she can’t help it. She loves him and she wants to keep him.  _

_ He frowns up at her. “Not good.” She laughs a little at his scrunched up expression, and then pets him on the head a little more.  _

_ “Get some sleep, darling. And…” She pauses. “Happy 6th birthday.”  _

* * *

**January 2007**

_ “He’s where?!”  _

_ “In hospital!” Linda shrieks at Frank Sr., her son’s father. She refuses to acknowledge that she still loves him. There’s a little voice in her head screaming for her to let him back in. “He’s sick!” _

_ Frank Sr. frowns. “How?”  _

_ “Does that matter?!” _

_ “It does, Linda. He’s my son too.” _

_ “Shut up and get out, Frank! Get out!” _

* * *

**November 2009**

_ She’d sent him off to bed earlier. She’s much happier now that he’s out of hospital and in her house, in her care. She refuses to let him get away from her. She wants to keep him forever. Forever and ever and ever and ever.  _

_ She hums as she passes her son’s room and smells something odd. Slowly she steps inside, looking to Frank’s bed. He’s not there. The movie is back to the title screen and she frowns. Did he go to the bathroom? She doesn’t remember him leaving his room. And there’s still that odd smell in the air.  _

_ She moves forward and then pauses when her slipper gets caught in a sticky substance. Slowly, she looks down and then screams. Blood. Blood everywhere.  _

_ She can hardly move, let alone look for the source. She looks around after a few seconds and her heart stops. The blood is coming from her poor baby boy. Her poor Frankie.  _

_ She cries out his name and collapses to the ground beside him. She sobs loudly as she takes her darling son into her arms and curls around him, kissing him on the forehead and screaming again. She stays there for what feels like hours and then stands on shaky legs and lifts her baby off the ground and back into bed before running away and calling 911.  _

_ As she waits, she cries, and she thinks about her baby. And what she should’ve done for him. She regrets it all. She hates it all.  _

* * *

**January 2017**

_ Linda waits in the interrogation room as they call in the detective that solved the case. She hasn’t actually seen him or spoken to him, but she’s so glad that he’d figured out that her ex-husband had killed her son. She’s happy that someone’s finally getting justice for her baby boy.  _

_ “Ma’am?” A male voice says and a teenage boy enters the room, taking a seat across from her. He gazes at her with a sad look in his eyes.  _

_ “Linda, please,” she urges and he nods.  _

_ “I’m Michael. Michael Way, but if we’re being informal, then call me Mike.” He seems to hesitate when giving her his nickname, so she tilts her head and shakes it.  _

_ “I’ll call you Michael, if you would rather.”  _

_ He gives her a curt nod and then hums. “So, Linda, your son, Frank Anthony Iero Jr., died on the 31st of October, 2009. And, I was informed that you were the one to find him.” _

_ “Yes.” She finds it hard not to get mad with the boy. He looks so… young. Yet… there’s age and wisdom and regret and sorrow in his eyes.  _

_ “Miss… Linda, I want to tell you that your ex-husband has claimed that you were drugging your son and making him sick on purpose. Do you deny these claims?” _

_ She thinks for a second before she slowly shakes her head. “No. I do not.” _

_ He narrows his eyes and leans forward. “Why?” He almost hisses.  _

_ She breathes deeply. “Because… because I didn’t want him to leave me!” She finally yells. An officer pokes his head in but Michael waves the guy away.  _

_ “What do you mean by that?” _

_ “Well…” She splutters. “I… he would grow up and move out and leave me! All alone!” _

_ “You threw your husband out... if he’d stayed you wouldn’t have been alone,” Michael deadpans. “You wanted to keep him your little son and in that, you made his life a living hell.”  _

_ “Don’t you dare-” _

_ “Linda, I’d appreciate if you’d calm down for a moment. Calm down and listen.” He shoots her a steely glare and because it’s coming from his wise eyes, she does as she’s told. He crosses his arms and continues. “I took on your son's case because the exact day your son died, my brother also died. In the same town, merely hours apart. It’s changed me, watching him drop dead in front of me. You may have seen your son, stabbed and lying on the carpet, but you… you are older than I am. You were not an eleven year old boy, watching his big brother, the boy who looked after you and cared for you and kept you safe, drop to the ground and faceplant into the grass. You have not had to wake up to your parents telling you that your loving, kind, caring boyfriend had died in a horrific car accident. You haven’t had to spend your days beside your friend’s side as he sleeps in a hospital bed, no idea if he’s ever going to wake up and be the bubbly person he once was. You’ve never been called in the middle of the night by your best friend telling you that he’s dying. You’ve never chased him up to New York at midnight, and lived with strangers for days because you can’t face the fact that your friend was fucking murdered and you were too late.”  _

_ “But I-” She protests. Michael sighs, settling into his chair a little more and shaking his head.  _

_ “Think about this, Linda. Your husband killed your son so he could be free. Your son would still be here if you hadn’t been so selfish. I would give anything to have my brother back, but I would never subject him to what you put your son through. Think about it, Linda. Think about it.” He rises from his seat and walks out, her watching him the whole time.  _

* * *

**March 2017**

Frank stalks down the dirt path, Gerard rushing after him, pleading for him not to do this. Frank has to, he has to see her, he needs answers. He needs to know  _ why? _ Why would she do that to him? Why did she poison him and trick him and torture him? Did she hate him? No, she always took care of him, she  _ loved _ him. 

It doesn’t make sense. He needs answers. 

“Frankie, wait! You can’t…!” 

“I’m doing this, Gee! I’m-” 

“Let me go! I’ll see to her first. I’m the Leader, she’ll follow me!” Gerard finally catches up to Frank and wraps his arms around Frank’s shoulders, keeping him in place. Frank scowls as he attempts to throw the elder boy off, but he can’t. 

“Gerard!” 

“Let me go to her, Frank. You can’t, not in this state. But I can! I’ll… I’ll bring here back to you, make sure she doesn’t fuck up any more.” Gerard reaches up with one hand and brushes Frank’s hair down in front of his eyes. Frank licks his lips and tastes the salty tears that have coated them. 

“Mama…” He whines. Gerard kisses the back of his head and whispers. 

“I know, I know, baby.” He then lets go and pushes Frank back towards the float. “I’ll go, baby. I’ll go.” 

Frank slowly but surely nods and begins to walk back to the float, legs shaky and he reaches up to wipe his face once more. 

* * *

Linda walks and walks and walks. She doesn’t know where she is. All she remembers is falling. A man… a man pushed her. She was simply standing against the balcony, looking out at the sky and dreaming of a life where her baby boy lived. Maybe… maybe if she hadn’t been so selfish, he would’ve stayed of his own volition. Or he would’ve visited her as often as he could. He could’ve fallen in love, had children of his own, had a life of his own. 

She’d been crying and then she’d been falling and she’d turned in mid-air to see a large, dark shape at the edge of the balcony, walking away. 

Then she’d woken up to a grey sky and a battlefield. So she walks and walks and walks towards the city in the skyline. It gets closer and closer as her heels struggle for leverage in the rubble. And she falls again, almost tumbling down to the ground. She lets out a loud shriek and then a hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her up and into someone’s arms. 

A man, no, a boy, keeps her secure in his arms as he leads her down to stable ground. He has ashy white hair and young face, being slightly taller than her, with pale skin and a sturdy build. He helps her along, silent and gentle. They reach the edge of the city and he stops her. 

“Your name’s Linda, isn’t it?” He asks, finally speaking and looking up at her. His eyes are a deep hazel, bordering on green, while his lips rise for his small teeth to peek through. “Why are you here?”

“I…” She doesn’t know how to respond. “I fell.” He hums in confusion and she elaborates. “I was pushed.”

“You’re dead, you know?”

She nods and bows her head. “I… Is this hell?”

He shakes his head. 

“Heaven…” She guesses again, doubting it. 

“No.”

“Purgatory?”

“No, ma’am. This is none of those. I’m not sure if they exist, but they might. There’s isn’t enough people here for it to make up all of eternity. But… no, this is the black parade. Or… not quite yet, but soon enough.”

He holds out his hand when she moves forward and she stops. 

“My son,” she whispers. “Do you know if he’d be here?”

“Frank?” He asks, looking up at her again. She is struck by how similar he looks to the detective she’d met. He’d kept in contact, and she’d spilt out her thoughts. 

“Yes…” 

“Yes.” He nods and takes her wrist. “Come, he’s waiting for you.” He then mumbles something under his breath. 

“Are you dead?” She hesitates before she says, but she needs to know. He… he looks so much like Michael. Michael may be skinnier and taller, but this boy has the same eyes, the same wise look, the same nose, the same sort of jawline. 

“Yes.” He nods once more. “I died when I was fourteen, dropped dead in front of my poor baby brother.” 

This is Michael’s brother then… she doesn’t know how to feel. 

“Frank!” Michael’s brother calls out. “She’s here!” 

“Gerard!” Another voice cries back. “Please!” 

Michael’s brother leads her down the main road and they stop in front of a float. 

“You need to come down, Frankie.”

“No.”

“Frankie.” Michael’s brother motions for her to stay and then walks up to the float. 

“Fuck off, Gerard,” the voice hisses back. 

“Come on,” the newly named Gerard coerces. Slowly, a boy emerges from behind one of the float’s higher levels. His hair is dark and he is incredibly short, tattoos littering the visible skin of his wrists, hands, and neck. He scowls, crossing his arms like a kid. 

“Fuck off,” he hisses, and she freezes. She looks at his face, into his eyes. It’s her baby boy, all grown up and independent, and yet, he looks at her with such anger and spite. “Get out of here, Mama. Get out!” 

Beside her, Gerard sighs and beckons the boy down. “Just come see her, please, baby.” Frank whines at that, leaning over to pet Gerard’s hair a little. “C’mon, Frankie.” 

Frank scowls again and then jumps down, Gerard catching the younger boy in his arms. Gerard then sets him on the ground and Linda stands above her short son, looking every bit as old as he would if he were alive. Her lips quiver with the beginnings of sobs and she shakes a little, curling her arms around herself and staring at him as tears begin to prick at her eyes. 

“I’m…” She mumbles and he looks up at her. “I’m sorry.” She finally gets out and he gives her a sad look. 

He stands there for a few moments, pondering her words. “I know,” he whispers. He gently takes her hand. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you. But… in a twisted way I understand.” He then pulls away. “Anyway, Gerard, take her to see Mother War, she’ll know what to do with her.” 

Linda looks at her son in surprise and then at Gerard who nods and hooks his arm around hers. 

“Come now, Linda. Come see Mother War.”

She begins to protest but gives up once she sees her son turn away and climb back onto the float. Fine… she’ll see this  _ Mother War _ , but she won’t be happy about it.

* * *

**September 2017**

“Happy Birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday mikeywayyyyyyyyyy. Happy birthday, toooooooooo youuuuuuu!” They all sing and Mikey laughs as Pete cries out his hip hoorays. 

Pete, Brendon, Ryan, Patrick, Joe, Andy, Spencer, Jon, Lindsey, Jamia, Jimmy, Kitty, Steve, Dallon, Ryan S., Breezy, Kristin, Crista, and Billie Joe Armstrong, all crowd around the table, around Mikey, as they sing him _happy birthday_. It’s the largest birthday group he’s had, well… ever. Last year he’d had the guys from school and Bob. Billie hadn’t been able to make it, but now even he has made it. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever had so many friends. And they’re all important to him. And  _ that _ scares him. It absolutely terrifies him. They’d been lucky, with Pete having woken up with little damage to his brain and his body being able to work properly after physical therapy and training. But he’s lost so many people. Bob, Grandma, Ray… Gerard…

He wishes his brother was here to celebrate his birthday with him. That would be the best thing in the whole world. But he can’t…

When everyone leaves, waving goodbye and making plans to meet up again, since none of them are in high school anymore aside from Kristin, he lies down on Gerard’s bed again. He’d stopped using it for a little while, but he needs it tonight. 

Despite it being September, there’s only one song that is in his head from his brother. One that he used to sing so Mikey would get to sleep on Christmas Eve. So he sings to himself

_ “Under atmospheric haze _

_ Just some stratospheric strays, we wait _

_ And can we hold on our hearts _

_ 'Til the day brings the light? _

_ Nice to meet you, Marigold _

_ I don't think you're looking old but _

_ "I don't think you can stay," _

_ Said the sea to the night” _

He pauses, collapsing in on himself.

_ “When you go, when you go, away _

_ When you go, can you come, this way? _

_ 'Cause I feel safe in your arms _

_ And she's got dashes in her stars _

_ I hope you both, come around, this way.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter  
Famous Last Words - My Chemical Romance  
Dasher (feat. Lydia Night) - Gerard Way


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a fun chapter to write

**November 2017**

With another dreadful Halloween behind him, though luckily no one had died this time around, and Christmas getting closer and closer, Mikey was just chilling at home. Working full time is fun but his days off are so much better. 

He doesn’t even really need a job, to be honest. He could probably be unemployed for life and his parents wouldn’t care, they’d let him live off them for as long as he lives. But he needed  _ something _ to do. Something normal, a routine to keep him grounded or he would spiral. Relaxing at home isn’t just  _ relaxing _ though. He looks for things to obsess over. His days off are full of practice on his bass - the punk gang from New York were totally on board with him helping out if he ever wanted to, he wasn’t quite ready for that yet though - reading, gaming, smoking - a bad habit he’d also picked up from the New York gang - and searching for something to solve. 

Especially something relating to Halloween. 

And so, one day in late November, relaxing at home, he found the thing he’d been looking for. Something to obsess over. Something to solve. 

On Halloween night, two boys were leaving a house party that had apparently  _ ‘sucked balls’ _ . Both seventeen, one almost eighteen, they’d been walking home and had just gone their separate ways when the younger one, a boy with the name of Gabe Saporta, heard his ‘friend’, William Beckett, screaming and when Gabe went running back for him, he was nowhere to be seen. 

Gabe had looked for him for about ten minutes before he called the police and an actual search had begun. But even weeks later, they still hadn’t found William. 

Mikey decides he was going to take a shot at figuring it out himself, as he’d figured out the Iero case, there’s no reason he couldn’t figure out this one as well if he tried hard enough. If someone figured it out before him, if someone else found William before him, then that didn’t matter, because at least the kid would be found. Whether he was dead or alive was another question, but at least finding a body would bring closure. 

Mikey knew all about that. He had graves he could visit, which others didn’t. And if they found William alive, well, that would be great. It all depended on what state the poor guy was in. 

So he got his shit together and began to research the whole event, the boy himself, and the area. Unfortunately, he wasn’t privy to as many resources as a real detective, but his connections with Jimmy Urine, who seemed to be infamous in the underground, might help him. 

“Lindsey,” he says as soon as she picks up the phone. 

**“Yo, Mikey, what’s up?” ** Lindsey greets back. He sighs. 

“I need Jimmy to see if he can get me some information on this case.”

**“You found another one?”** Lindsey asks and he nods before he reminds himself that she’d currently in New Mexico and has no way of seeing him. 

“Yeah, some kid went missing on Halloween.”

The whole New York gang knew about his slightly unhealthy obsession with Halloween and the bad things that happen on it, but they just let him do his thing and help him out whenever he needs. Makes things a whole heap easier. 

**“Okay, I’ll put Jimmy on, see if he can get you anything.”**

“Thanks, Linds.” 

Mikey could hear the sound of the phone being handed from one person to the other before Jimmy’s voice came down the line. 

**“What do you need, little dude?” ** Jimmy is weird, Mikey’ll give him that. He’s a fair few years older than him, older than Gerard would be, but he’s okay and he helps Mikey so Mikey doesn’t really worry too much about the odder aspects of Jimmy’s personality. 

“A teenager went missing, his name’s William Beckett. He went missing about three weeks ago, on Halloween. Can you see if you can get me any more information then the stuff I can find online.” 

Jimmy seems to ponder this for a second before,  **“sure, I’ll get you that soon.”**

“Thanks. And, uh… can you get me the phone number of his  _ friend _ , Gabe Saporta? You don’t have to but I think it’d be useful to hear from the actual witness.”

**“I said sure, man. I’ll get you your information.”**

Mikey thanks him again and then hangs up, happy that he’s got that sorted. Jimmy’s never failed him before with info, mostly because the guy believes Mikey is the coolest guy for being able to invite Billie Joe fucking Armstrong to his  _ birthday party _ . So, now all Mikey can do is wait and dig a little more, see if he can find anything else on the web to help. 

Jimmy flicks Gabe’s phone number to him first, obviously, the easiest and simplest bit of information as Jimmy really needs to dig for the rest. Hack into police files and shit. Mikey has no idea how the guy does it, but he does so it’s good enough for him. 

Mikey thinks of calling Gabe straight away, but his mom calls for dinner and he slots himself into his seat at the dinner table. Dinner is always a quiet affair. It’s been over eight years and still, it feels like the dinner table is missing a major presence. Actually, it is missing two. Not only Gerard but Grandma too. But… at least her disappearance had been gradual. Occasionally when he would see her in hospital, his parents would come with and they’d eat takeaway there with her before leaving. Gerard was just… there one day and then gone the next. 

He pushes his food around his plate for a little while, distracted thinking about William and all the awful situations he could currently be in, and he makes the decision to talk to Gabe after dinner. 

He scoffs his food down, puts his dishes in the dishwasher, and runs back down to the basement, which he’s been using to spread out whatever his current obsession was, the basement is bigger than his room anyway. He reminds himself to grab his laptop later and then sets about calling Gabe. 

The kid picks up on the third ring, stuttering out a hello. 

“Hey,” Mikey replies. 

**“Who… who is it?”** Gabe struggles and Mikey sighs softly. 

“This is Michael Way, I solved the Iero case, and I wanted to talk to you about William.” 

* * *

If there is anything William is going to take away from this is that he is  _ so _ not into bondage. 

“Fuck, guys, what’s the safeword?!” He cries out to his captors. “I’m pretty sure there’s supposed to be one of those in this type of situation!” 

His restraints consist of handcuffs and rope around his ankles tied to the front two chair legs. He’s not sure how long he’s been chained up, but it’s been a while he thinks. And honestly, being kidnapped, not as exciting as it sounds. It’s boring, his captors leaving him alone for what feels like days, but is probably only a few hours. He might start to go crazy from the lack of things to do. 

They feed him, and he decides to take it with little resistance, because what’s the point. He  _ needs _ to eat or he’ll die. The only problem is that they literally spoon-feed him, like a baby. 

At least they let him piss in peace, untying the rope but leaving his wrists shackled. They’re beginning to hurt, but he finds that the less he moves them the less they are rubbed raw. By the second day, he’d figured out how to sleep sitting up. 

He’s still not quite sure what they want with him. They don’t torture him, they aren’t asking for money, he’s just… there. It sorta scares him, that he doesn’t know what’s going on. 

They  _ baby _ him though. They seem to do this creepy coddling thing, brushing his shoulder-length hair,  _ fucking feeding him - he almost can hear the ‘hear comes the aeroplane’-, _ dressing him up, at least from the waist up, switching out outfits for new ones every few days, or at least he thinks that. 

They also fucking wash him. They take off his shirt and wash his upper body and face and hair. But at least this means he doesn’t smell  _ too _ bad. It’s still awful, but he reasons that it could be so much fucking worse. 

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to fucking leave. He’d contemplated charming his captors, but he wasn’t sure that that wouldn’t spur them on to do worse things to him, so he’d thrown that idea out the window. So that left him with one option. 

“C’mon, guys, just let me gooooooooo,” he whines. 

He’s almost eighteen, but he’s definitely not ready for this sort of situation. He was just walking home with Gabe after they’d ended up at a shit party, drank a few beers, fucked in the bathroom, and left. Then someone had grabbed him and he’d screamed and he’s so sure that Gabe heard him because he could hear frantic calling, though he couldn’t quite understand that since he had been in the middle of being sedated. 

He’s just hoping that either, one; he annoyed his captors so much that they just let him go, or two; someone found him and rescued him. He can’t stay like this. 

“Hello, Mr Beckett.” A voice comes from behind him and he freezes. Because… there is only one door in this room, he’d checked, and it is in front of him. So this person either somehow snuck in without him noticing or he is hearing voices again. 

“Hello?” He says with slight hesitation. 

A breeze licks his cheek as the person comes to stand in front of him. It’s a girl, younger than him, with dark hair and a black skirt and military coat with missing sleeves, making it more like a vest than anything. Her eyes are empty of emotion. 

“You’re scared,” she whispers and he looks at her, incredulously. 

“No fucking kidding.”

“I am Fear,” she says and holds out her hand towards his face. His lips. Oh, she wants him to kiss her hand. Okay, he can do that. Do what the captors say, he reminds himself. Do what they say. So he does and she pulls back after an appropriate period of time has passed, running a hand through his hair. He shakes her off. She’s most definitely starting to make him feel uncomfortable. 

“What kind of name is Fear?”

“Mr Beckett-” She starts and he cuts her off. 

“Call me William... or Bill.”

“William,” she sighs. “I am Fear and I am here with a proposition.”

William raises his eyebrows. “Go on,” he says, thinking. If she could get him out, well… that would be fucking amazing. He just prays that it won’t be anything awful that he has to do in return. 

And he also prays that he hasn’t actually gone crazy, that he isn’t hallucinating. 

“I will set both you and your…” she pauses before she continues. “ _ Friend _ to come with me when your time comes.”

“Time comes?” 

She gives him a look like he’d asked a stupid question. “When you die.” 

William gives her a grimace back. “Great,” he mutters and she crosses her arms before continuing.

“All you have to do is keep an eye on someone. Another one of the living has been recruited to do this, but she is not always able to do her job, so we are setting up other soldiers as needed.”

“Woah, hold up, soldiers? And spying, dude, no, that’s creepy.”

She shakes her head and huffs in frustration. “You won’t be spying on him, you will be watching out for him. It is very important that he is kept on the right path.”

“How will I know if he’s on the right path or not?”

“You just will, William.” 

He sags in his chair.  _ His _ chair. Fuck, he’s become attached to the damn thing. Now, when he gets out, he’s going to have to take the fucking thing with him, but the cops will probably take it away as evidence or some shit. 

“How can I do that when I’m locked up in here?”

“You will be set free soon.” She reaches down and pushes his hair out of his face, giving him a swift kiss on the lips that tastes like death. “You simply need to be patient for another few days.”

William grumbles that that sounds fucking impossible, but she just pats his head and walks out the door, her footsteps echoing loudly through the room and down the hall. Wait, when did that door open. 

“Boss, the kid’s talkin’ to himself. What do we do?”

William didn’t exactly have a bad feeling, but it definitely wasn’t good. 

* * *

“You solved a cold case that was like seven years old on your own? And you’re not a detective, you were still in high school, and you don’t even work with the police. What the fuck?” Gabe comes out in a rush. He and Mikey had met up at a nearby coffee shop, Mikey figuring that Gabe might trust him more in a safe space. 

“I… It’s Halloween. That’s why I took that case, and why I’m so eager to find your friend. Because it happened on Halloween and that date is very fucking important to me.” 

Gabe simply ducks his head and nods. “So… what do you need to know?”

And as Mikey begins to ask, Gabe begins to answer to the best of his ability. His struggle to recall a couple of details can go down to both the fact that he was tipsy, not  _ drunk _ , tipsy and panicked. But Mikey can gather enough information to possibly figure it out. And with all the stuff Jimmy had sent over, he has a few possible locations and a few possible suspects. 

But, unlike last time, he decides that he’ll come at this from a different angle. A much less… legal… angle. Lindsey had mentioned about sending two of the guys they knew down, called Daniel and Sebastian, and told Mikey to send them out to scout the areas and see if they could find William and in what state he is in. 

Mikey is so lucky he made friends with Jamia on that train. So fucking lucky. 

Daniel and Sebastian look like normal guys, but they don’t talk much to him. They take orders, directions, and do their thing. 

Mikey had written down four locations and it only takes Daniel and Sebastian to find someone who resembles William and return back to him. 

“Mr Way,” Sebastian begins. Mikey knows better than to correct them. “We believe to have found William Beckett in the basement under the warehouse about half an hour outside of town.”

“Alive?” Mikey asks, pushing down the urge to bite his lip. 

“Yes.” Daniel nods. “And visibly unharmed, though there may be unseen damage. He’s been tied to a chair and his hands are cuffed but he has no further restraints.”

“Were people there?”

“Yes,” Sebastian replies. 

“Can you help me get William out?” Mikey looks at them pleadingly and they nod as one.

“That’s our job, Mr Way. We’ll get him out, but you’ll have to come with us and stay on the outskirts, wait for us to retrieve him and bring him to you.” 

Mikey slowly nods and then he dismisses the two and sets himself down on his bed, waiting for the front door to close before he bolts down to the basement and breathes heavily. 

“What the fuck am I doing, Gerard?” 

* * *

William doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he feels a little cheated when his rescuers do come. It’s a lot less badass than in the movies. Sure, the duo take out all of his captors, but they don’t, you know, shoot them all and kill them. No, they just knock them out. William doesn’t know what will happen when they wake up, but he definitely does  _ not _ want to be there for it. 

He’s being carried, fucking carried, out of what he realises is a warehouse, and towards a car. A blond sits in the front seat, or more like he’s leaning half out the window at this point. As soon as he sees them, he bolts out of the car and takes William from the taller one, whispering thanks before slotting him in the passenger seat, getting back in the front seat, and letting the other two slide in the back. 

When they’re finally back on the road, only then does William let out a breath and shakily say, “what the fuck.”

The blond just laughs, shifting his sunglasses up into his hair. 

“Gabe is going to be fucking relieved to see you, man.”

William leans back in his seat, shocked. 

* * *

Gabe doesn’t want bad news. He really, really doesn’t want bad news. He recognises Mikey’s car, recognises Mikey’s blond hair, from the window. He’s scared Mikey’s going tell him that he’d given up, that there is no way to find William. That it’s a lost cause. Or… that William is dead. They’d found his dead body, rotting in a ditch or an abandoned house or something. Gabe feels sick, waiting for Mikey to get to his front door. And when he opens it, Mikey gives him a smile and moves out of the way. 

Behind him, being held up by two strangers, is William. It is Bill. Fuck, Gabe doesn’t care if the guy looks dirty and tired and sweaty. He doesn’t care, William is just as beautiful as always. Gabe runs forward and takes William in his arms, crying. He doesn’t care that Mikey or the other two guys can see him crying. 

He’s just so fucking glad that he’s got William back. And he’s never going to let him go ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> William will most definitely be an important character. but i'll let you guys figure out how :)
> 
> next chapter will be out in a few days, hopefully
> 
> Song for this chapter  
You'll Be Fine - Palaye Royale


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck it's been a while. I'm really sorry guys. This was a hard chapter to write and I've been procrastinating so much lately. And I've had this weird restless feeling that won't let me stay still for too long so I'm really sorry as to how long this has taken. I hope I can get another one out before Christmas. 
> 
> If not, merry Christmas or happy whatever other holiday you celebrate. I love all of you that are sticking with this fic and hope you all have a good last few weeks of this decade and a great 2020, though I'm sure I'll be telling you that in the next few chapters anyway. 
> 
> The concert is almost here, anyone get tickets? If so, you're incredibly lucky and I hope you have lots of fun. :)

**February 2018**

Billie doesn’t mind when she talks to him, but when he’s playing a venue, it gets a little awkward. She stands at the corner of his vision, never quite going away. In all honesty, a tiny bit of him believes she’s a figment of his imagination, that maybe he’s going crazy. But, instead of giving her his attention, he just keeps playing. As soon as the set finishes, he finds somewhere quiet to go and talk to her. 

“Hi, Billie,” she greets. He gives her a raised eyebrow as he sips from his bottle of water. 

“Regret. Never a pleasure.” 

She frowns at him. “Are you always this sour?”   
  


“You tell me,” Billie says back in an unimpressed tone. 

She crosses her arms, wandering over to the couch and sitting next to him. 

“Stop interrupting my sets and I wouldn’t be so grouchy,” he reminds her finally and she sighs. 

“I don’t  _ mean _ to. I’ve just come to talk.”

“That’s all we ever do. Talk.” 

She hums. “I need to tell you something. We want to set up a meeting with you and the other two soldiers.” 

Billie leans back into the couch, crossing his legs and looking at her incredulously. “Other soldiers?”

She tilts her head, swinging her feet as he rises again and walks over to the mirror, running a hand through his hair. 

“You’ve met one, briefly. Mother War’s little soldier. But Fear has been slow and careful about who she has chosen. Mother and sister and I have chosen the place you living ones call  _ New York _ .”

He looks over himself in the mirror before directing his gaze to her reflection. “Where and when, Regret?”

She sighs again. “As soon as possible. We will make arrangements. When does this… _tour_… end?”

“End? Not for a while. But we’re heading to New York soon.” He shrugs. She nods. 

“When?” 

Instead of answering, he rifles through a drawer and then tosses her a flier. It’s for the fifteenth of March. 

“We’ll be there then, write down their names…” he spins around and hands her a sheet of paper and a pen, “there. I’m guessing you don’t want us to know each other's names, do you?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Then write them down and I’ll get someone to put them on the guest list, and I won’t even peek.” 

She fumbles with the pen for a moment and then scribbles down two names. He’s curious as to if anyone will even be able to read the gibberish. Even so, when she folds the paper in half, he takes it, takes one more glance at himself in the mirror, and walks out. She follows after him for a bit and then the echo of her footsteps fade out. He turns around and she’s gone. 

* * *

**March 2018**

“You’re kidding, right?” William asks. Fear shakes her head. He sets down his calculus book he’s been staring at for hours. “You got me a ticket for a Green Day concert? A fucking  _ backstage pass _ !” He crosses his arms. 

“Technically, you don’t have a  _ ticket _ , you’re just written down on the guest list. But… Yes, you do have backstage access.  _ If you’re with me _ .” 

He frowns. “Why you?”

“You are to meet the other soldiers there.”

He makes a face and picks up his calculus book again. He needs to get some work done. “You haven’t even told me what I’m supposed to be doing,” he whines. And then he sighs. “But… thanks for the late birthday present, I guess.” 

He looks up at just the right moment to spot the glimmer of a smile playing at her lips. He smiles at her and she purses her lips again. 

“Anyway, see you later, I guess.” 

Fear nods and then she’s gone and he flops back onto his pillow. Fuck calculus, it’s not like he’ll get any study done now. Besides, he’s not going to need calculus when he’s in a band.

* * *

“I don’t-”

**“Soon enough you will understand, fair one,”** Mother whispers. Lindsey stretches out on her bed. 

“Michael… Mikey… I found him… so what?”

**“You must meet the others.”**

“The other’s protecting him, right?”

**“Yes.”**

Lindsey groans. This is going to be annoying. Well… At least she gets to go to a Green Day concert. Despite the quick interaction she had with him at Mikey’s birthday last year, she’s barely met Billie Joe Armstrong, and she’s excited to actually talk to him, even if she has to meet the other soldiers as well. 

* * *

**April 2008**

_ “Happy birthday Gee!” Mikey cries out and Gerard wraps his little brother up in a hug before pushing him off the bed lightly and hoping out himself.  _

_ “What did you get me, huh?” _

_ “You gotta unwrap it first!” Mikey whines as he takes Gerard’s hand and dragging him into the kitchen, where a few presents were sitting on the table. His mom, Donna, stands by the sink, leaning against the cabinets and smiling as her youngest son jumps about.  _

_ “How old am I this year, Mikey?” Gerard asks his little brother.  _

_ “Thirteen,” Mikey reminds him and then slides a box over to his brother. “This one’s from me, open it first.” _

_ “Boys, wait, your dad and grandmother aren’t down yet.” As Donna says this, their dad, Donald, descends the stairs, closely followed by their Grandmother, Elena.  _

_ “We’re here, we’re here.” Donald pats his eldest son on his head and Donna pulls out a chair for Gerard to sit in as well as one for Elena to sit in. Mikey hovers over his brother as the boy pulls Mikey’s present in front of him, tugging at the wrapper. And then his eyes go wide as he gets a glimpse at what it is. It’s two Green Day vinyl records, Dookie and Nimrod, alongside a Misfits one and right at the bottom, is a Queen t-shirt. Gerard gives him a big grin and half turns in his seat to reach up and hug his brother.  _

_ His Grandmother then places one in front of him, a large and wide one, and he looks at it with confusion before gently scraping the paper away. Revealed is a brown cardboard box with shipping instructions. He still can’t grasp what it is, so he flips it up so it is balanced on its thin side and his mom hands him a kitchen knife, which he uses to carefully cut the tape away. He then digs his nails under the folded over cardboard and pulls it up, pushing his chair back and standing. He then sticks his arm in the thin, wide box and feels a handle, his eyes going even wider than before as he pulls out a… _

_ “Guitar case?” He mumbles in confusion as he withdraws the whole thing, setting it on the table before carefully undoing the latches and opening up the case. Sitting inside, snug and shiny, is a brand new acoustic guitar. His breath catches in his throat. “Oh my… wow…” _

_ He runs his hand across the beautiful instrument and lets out a shudder before turning to his Grandmother and hugging her tightly. She smiles at him. “Oh darling, I know you’ve been asking for it for months, so I decided, with your parents, that we’d buy you one.” He spins around and hugs him mom, who only hesitates for a second in surprise before hugging him back, and then goes over to his dad and hugs him too.  _

_ Donald just laughs. “Happy birthday, Gerard.”  _

* * *

**October 2009**

_ The funeral is sad, sure, but Donna was never really close to her second cousin. She saw her maybe once a year at Thanksgiving, not even Christmas, and so her sadness isn’t quite up to par with the people around her. Her husband is there with her, enduring the whole thing as they talk with relatives, and her mother, Elena, is also distant from the whole thing.  _

_ Her sons have disappeared off somewhere and she hasn’t quite been paying attention to where they wandered off to, so it surprises her a little when Mikey runs over to them and confesses that Gerard isn’t well. A bad feeling surfaces in her, but she pushes it down and asks for Elena to take the boys home. Hopefully, Gerard would feel better after a bit of rest.  _

_ Soon enough, she watches as her boys follow her mother towards the exit, and she spots her eldest swaying as he walks, his dark hair blending into his black shirt. He stumbles a few times and then he stops and so does her heart. The bad feeling returns and then her heart speeds up as Gerard falls forward, hitting the ground without a cry. The cemetery is silent for a moment and then Donna finds herself crying out, running towards her son. By the time she gets there, so has Elena and Mikey. The sight of her firstborn lying face first in the dirt makes her sick and she pulls him into her arms quickly, swiping her fingers across to push away his hair and then pressing them to his neck, looking for a pulse. She keeps talking to him, but she doesn’t know what she’s saying.  _

_ “Baby, Gerard? Come on, come on, talk to mommy. Come on darling, I know you can talk to mommy. Baby, please. Open your eyes. Look at me, please.” She can’t find a pulse, she runs her hand all around his neck looking for one, and then she grabs his wrist to see if she can find one there, but she can’t. She puts her head to his chest but there’s no familiar pound in his chest. Someone’s called 911, and she’s trying not to cry as she hears her youngest whine as he uselessly pulls on his brother’s limp arm. He’s suddenly pulled away from her by his father, and then her mother leads him away as Donald kneels by her side and begins his attempt to bring her dear son back to life. As paramedics swarm the cemetery, relatives watching with horror on their faces as the paramedics try and try and try to bring him back, with no success.  _

_ His face is slack and empty. He doesn’t look happy or sad or at peace.  _

_ She wipes her eyes as they wheel him into the back of the ambulance and Donald presses a kiss to her cheek before leading her into it, sitting her down and wrapping his arm protectively around her. She can feel his breathing in her ear, his fast heart rate. He’s scared, she knows. Gerard is as much his son as he is hers, so she presses her face into his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.  _

_ Things blur together as they arrive at the hospital, trying, again and again, to revive Gerard with no more success. Eventually, they call it and she breaks down in the small, plastic hospital seat, curling up and sobbing into her black skirt like a child. A nurse takes her and sits her in a wheelchair as they take her to her son, aware that she won’t move otherwise. She sits at his side, running her hand through his dark hair, holding his cold hand, letting the tears fall down her face.  _

_ Donald takes her home not long after, wheeling her out and carrying her to the car before sitting her in the passenger's seat and driving out of the car park. He doesn’t turn on the radio, leaving the silence to fester, only broken by her whimpers.  _

_ She gets home and the basement door is open. It screws with her head for a second, telling her that, oh, Gerard’s down there, but no, he’s not. She can’t even walk down the stairs, Donald carrying her down and setting her on her son’s bed, where Mikey is curled up in Gerard’s sheets and her mother is softly singing to him as his brother would do. She leans over and runs her fingers through her youngest’s hair, letting the last of her tears fall down her face before she half stumbles upstairs and into her bed, her husband sliding in after her and curling around her.  _

* * *

**November 2009**

_ Donna cries as she looks down at her eldest son, lying in his tiny coffin. She sees her dear Mikey with his grandmother. He’s crying, the poor boy broken and shattered. She can’t even stand to look at any of this. Elena listens to Mikey for a minute as he whispers before she leaves him and walks up to Donna.  _

_ “He wants to go home,” she murmurs and Donna goes to protest but before she can, they’re gone. She wants to go home, herself. She wants to go home and curl up in her own sheets and never wake up again. But she’s an adult, she needs to deal with the aftermath. So she takes her husband’s hand and she deals with the rest of the funeral and burial before she gets to go home and kiss her baby boy Mikey goodnight and then go to sleep with the fear that her youngest son could die in the night.  _

_ She drags herself out of bed the next day, and the next and the next and the next. It gets a little easier every time, but her heart hurts.  _

_ A disease. Of course. A family disease, deep-rooted, hard to spot, deadly. She begs for them to get Mikey tested, to find out if he has it. If he does, they might be able to do something. She doesn’t want him to suffer the same fate as his brother. She can’t stand the thought.  _

_ The doctors say no, so, instead, she tries her hardest not to treat Mikey like he might shatter at any second. It’s hard, letting her living son out of her sight. But she can’t keep him trapped.  _

_ She starts buying him things, just for the hell of it. New clothes, shoes, just… things. He comes home one day with Ray at his side, the poor older boy looking close to tears, and Mikey waves Ray goodbye softly.  _

_ He begins to sleep in Gerard’s bed constantly. He uses it as his second room, and neither Donna nor Donald make a move to stop him. They can’t bring themselves to.  _

_ As time goes by, Gerard’s birthday catches up with them and she spends the night before crying and feeling ill. Donald simply holds her in his arms as she thinks of her baby boy in the ground. The morning comes and she struggles to even descend the stairs to the basement where Mikey is sleeping, but she does it and he looks so undeniably miserable. He goes with Ray to see Gerard and then they spend hours in the basement listening to old tapes and records and CDs and reading old comics.  _

_ Ray bids her farewell and she gives him a hesitant smile as she cooks. She cooks Gerard’s favourite meal and Mikey eats barely anything but he does curl up with them on the couch. But when she wakes up, he’s gone.  _

* * *

**March 2018**

William awkwardly tells the bouncer his name, so sure that he’ll be denied, but the guy simply nods and moves to let him in. Shaking, he lets Fear lead him through the crowd. He takes out his phone and begins to talk into it, aiming his speech at the girl in front of him. A perfect way to not be caught talking to himself. 

“What am I supposed to do now?” He asks. 

“Wait.”

“Can I enjoy the concert at least? I can wait until after to meet with these other two soldiers, right?” He mumbles and she nods.

“Have fun. I’ll come find you when you’re needed.” 

He gives her a look but then the lights flash on the stage and the opening band make their way onto the stage and he settles in. 

He’s sweaty and tired and buzzing by the end of the concert, being a massive Green Day fan he had screamed all the lyrics and now his voice is hoarse and his throat hurts. He wipes sweat from his brow and smiles until someone taps him on the shoulder. He spins around to face them, finding himself looking at Fear. 

“Come on, it’s time.” 

He sighs and follows her lead. As she leads him, he ends up bumping into another girl who seems to be heading in the same direction and he almost fall over except she catches him. 

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” she tells him, pulling him up to stand properly on his feet. “I was just… I wasn’t looking.”

“Neither was I, it’s fine,” he reassures her, and looks around to find Fear again, to see her speaking to a tall woman with blonde hair. She has her back to him. “I’ve got to go, thanks for helping me up.”

She smiles a little and waves and he heads towards Fear again. 

“William,” Fear calls as he finally reaches her. “This is Mother War.”

He looks at the other woman and she turns around and he is frozen. This is freakier than, you know, being kidnapped. 

She looks reasonably normal, except for the gas mask and trunk-like thing hanging from the mouth. 

**“William,”** her voice is distorted and he tries to calm himself.  **“Ah, Lindsey.”** Mother War is looking at someone just behind him and so he turns around to see the girl he bumped into standing there. 

“Mother War,” she greets and William blinks at Fear who simply nods. 

“Wait…” He addresses the girl, Lindsey apparently. “You’re one of the soldiers?”

Her eyebrows shoot up into her hair. “You too?”

He nods quickly. “Yeah, guess so. I’m William. William Beckett.” 

“Oh… you’re that kid that Mikey found.” 

“You know Mikey?” He asks. 

“I’m one of his friends. I sort of helped him find you, you know?” 

Okay, so both he and Lindsey have met Mikey. Actually, he hadn’t been told that it was  _ Mikey _ he was supposed to be keeping an eye on until they became reasonably good friends. He just got lucky is all. But that means that this other soldier is  _ also _ friends with Mikey.

“You know who the third soldier is?”

“Not a clue, buddy.” She leans against the wall. People are clearing out slowly, and security is pushing others out, but their little corner is being ignored, which is probably because of the two entities that are there with them. “Must be a reason we’re at this show though. Can’t think of one, though.”

“I can,” a voice carries over to them. It sounds vaguely familiar. William turns around to see a girl who looks reasonably similar to Fear leading Billie Joe  _ fucking _ Armstrong to them. 

Oh…

“Billie Joe,” Lindsey greets as if she already knows him. 

“You’re Lindsey, aren’t you. You were at Mikey’s birthday party.” She nods.

Wait… she does know him?

“And you?” Billie turns his attention to William and William can’t help the nervous shake in his voice. 

“I’m William,” he introduces and he gives him a smile and William feels like he’s going to faint. He doesn’t though, he just looks at Fear for a second before smiling back. 

“How about we get outta here and go somewhere a little nicer?” Lindsey suggests. “We can talk.” 

Billie agrees and leads them out, first Lindsey then William behind and then the three beings behind them. Somehow, William ends up in a booth at an open Waffle House, squished between Fear, who leans her head against the wall, and Billie Joe Armstrong, Lindsey sitting by the wall with Mother War beside her and the girl introduced as Regret on the end. He tries not to shake too much. 

“We’re here, maybe we should start talking…” William suggests. 

“We all know that it’s Mikey that we’re supposed to be watching out for,” Billie starts. “It’s why I became a teacher at his school.”

William blinks at him. “What school..?” He asks. 

“Belleville High,” Billie quickly responds and William feels faint. He attends that school.

“You teach music?”

“I  _ taught _ music. Not anymore, too many obligations with the band.” 

“That’s like the one class I’ve never been allowed to take,” William says and Lindsey winces. 

“Ouch, for me that’d be the worst. I’m the Bassist in a punk band called Mindless Self Indulgence. We’re also an…” she whispers the next part. “Illegal gang, but that doesn’t matter as much.”

William blinks at her, wide-eyed. “That doesn’t matter?”

“We’re the ones that helped find you, kid.”

“Find him?” Billie interjects. 

William gulps. “Yeah, I was kidnapped. Mikey found me.” 

Billie hums, but the way he stares at William makes his shock not that hard to see. 

“So…” Lindsey sighs. “We’re all close with Mikey, we all need to keep a close eye on him. We also… need to make sure he… dies at the right time?” She mutters with uncertainty. Mother War nods her head slightly and Fear speaks up. 

“That’s correct, Soldier Lindsey.”

“Why?” Billie asks. 

Regret breathes out slowly before she starts. “There’s a prophecy, you know. Five boys are to die across the span of ten years and become the leaders of the parade. And their three soldiers will take up being their protectors within the next ten years.”

Billie releases a shaky breath when he realises what that means, but William’s brain doesn’t quite process it and Lindsey pushes Regret to continue.   


“Out of the five boys, Michael is the only one left up here on earth. The first year, the Leader was taken, and at the same time was the Rhythmist. After three years, the Guitarist was taken. Another four years and the Drummer was taken. Now only the bassist remains.”

“His friend, the reason why he fled to New York, that was the Drummer. He died on Halloween.”

“All Hallows Eve, yes. As did the others.”

“The kid that he solved the homicide case.”

Regret nods again. Billie is still staring straight at Regret. 

Lindsey’s lips turned down. “His brother…” She whispers and William remembers Mikey mentioning an artist and Halloween being a very important day because people he loved died that day.

“Wait… but his brother died eight and a half years ago. On Halloween, 2009.” 

“Yes,” Fear cuts in.

“Ten years…” William murmurs. “He’s going to die… next year? On…”

**“All Hallows Eve, yes.”** Mother War leans forward and takes William’s hand, which makes him freeze up.  **“And soon enough you will join them as soldiers.”**

Billie stands up and runs towards the bathrooms and William wills himself not to faint. For fucks sake, he’s been kidnapped, this shouldn’t fuck him up as much as it does. 

He has less than twelve years left. And that’s if he’s fucking lucky. He finds himself following Billie’s footsteps and slides down the wall in the bathroom as he listens to Billie throwing up. The toilet flushes and Billie comes out still white as a sheet, washing his hands and his face and then sliding down the wall next to William. Without an invitation, William shuffles over and Billie wraps his arms around William. 

William wants to go home to his mom. He wants this to be all over. He wishes that he’d never come to New York. He wishes he’d never gone to that stupid party, that, instead, he’d just asked Gabe over to play video games and drink a few beers and exchange a few blow jobs. Then, maybe he wouldn’t be mixed up in all of this. He’d be safe. 

Billie gently runs a shaky hand through his hair as William begins to cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry
> 
> Songs for this chapter  
Bang Bang - Green Day  
Dying In A Hot Tub - Palaye Royale


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late, this isn't beta read, and I am so fucking tired. 
> 
> Anyway, merry christmas/whatever any other holiday you celebrate.
> 
> There are three days until the reunion and I am not prepared.

**March 2018**

“How did you even get here, William?” Lindsey asks. 

“Train. I snuck out.”

Lindsey raises his eyebrows at him as they walk out of the waffle house, her hand clutched tightly in his hand. His other is holding strong in Billie’s, who still has a pale face and waver to his walk.    
  


“You were kidnapped. What will your parents think?”

“I couldn’t just tell them that I was going to a concert, they’d want me to go with someone, and it was only me with a ‘ticket’ or whatever,” he tells her. “I’ve just gotta be home soon.” 

“We’ll walk you back to the station,” Billie says and Lindsey nods. 

“I’ll catch the train with you... if you want. I’ve been meaning to duck in to see Mikey for a while.”

William sends her a smile. “That would be great, Lindsey.”

“Lyn-z, call me Lyn-z.” 

William softly nods, eyes drooping before they spring open as he realises something. Both Billie and Lindsey wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t, instead thinking everything over. 

By the time they’ve reached the station, it’s almost midnight and Lindsey and William sit on a bench, waiting. Billie stands over them awkwardly. 

“I have to head back,” he says. And then he holds out a piece of paper. “My number, just text me if you need something.”

William would be more in awe that his favourite musician just gave him his fucking personal phone number if he wasn’t currently both having a mental breakdown and making the biggest decision of his entire life. 

“Okay,” William murmurs and Billie pats him on the head, leaning down to make eye contact.

“It’ll be okay, kid,” he whispers and then waves goodbye to the two of them just as the train pulls into the station. 

Lindsey grabs William’s hand and pulls him into the train. They get their tickets and settle into the empty car. William then digs his phone out. 

“What you gonna do?” Lindsey asks. 

William looks straight at her as he dials a number from muscle memory.    


“I’m going to ask my boyfriend to marry me.” 

Her eyes widen and she bounces out of her seat and right next to him, holding him close as he starts to shake. The phone rings several times before Gabe finally picks up, sounding groggy and half asleep. 

**“Hello?”**

“Hi, Gabe,” William softly says. 

**“Fuck, Bill? What are you doing calling me at midnight?”**

“I…” He hesitates, looking to Lindsey who nods. “I need to ask you something serious.”

Gabe shifts and clears his throat.  **“Yeah?”** He sounds a little more aware now. 

“You need to listen and consider everything I’m going to say.”

**“Okay, okay,”** Gabe mutters.  **“You’re sorta scaring me, dude.” **

“I’m sorry, it’s just, when I was… a lot of shit has gone down recently and I’ve realised a fuck ton of things and I…” William breaks off into a sob and Gabe seems to sober up. 

  
  
**“Fuck, William, I’m coming over, dude. You do ** ** _not_ ** ** sound good. Is this because of Halloween?”**

“Wait, fuck, d-don’t come over…”

**“Why?”**

William shoots Lindsey a look. “I’m not… I’m not home…”

Gabe is silent for a moment. ** “... why?”** **  
**

“I snuck out…”

  
  
**“Again… why?”** Gabe’s voice shakes a little with worry. 

“I went to a concert, but it’s okay, I’m on my way home. It’s just… well… fuck, seriously, I need you to listen.”

**“When you get home, you better fucking explain what’s going on. But fine, fucking go, I’m listening.”**

William slowly breathes in and out and then clears his throat. “Okay, I know it’s weird that this is over the phone and isn’t all traditional and all that shit, but… Will you marry me?”

At Gabe’s stone-cold silence, William shoots Lindsey a look and she smiles in a way that’s probably supposed to be encouraging. 

**“William… I…”** Gabe pauses again.  **“Sure dude. I’ll marry you, just… fuck… call me when you get home and I’ll come over.”**

William chokes on a sob and mumbles into the phone. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much. I… I promise, I promise, I promise to call you.” Lindsey rubs his back as he cries through the phone. 

**“Okay, I’ll see you soon. I love you, William.”**

“I… I love you, Gabe Saporta.” 

The phone clicks and the phone almost drops out of William’s grasp. But Lindsey catches it and slots it back into his jeans before going back to holding him.

* * *

Gabe throws on a hoodie as soon as William texts him. He said call, but whatever. His body is shaking, William’s words and voice making him feel like he’s drunk five cups of coffee. 

Marry. William wants him to marry him? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He didn’t think he was going to have to think about this for another few years, and he thought it’d be him asking. But the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. William’s perspective of the whole world has probably been altered by his experience. 

It’s surprising that it’s taken this long for him to break down. 

Gabe gets to William’s house in record speed and knocks on the guy’s window. A shadowy figure opens it and Gabe climbs inside. 

Sitting on his bed, William looks awful. He’s pale and shaking and has tear streaks down his face. There are bags under his eyes and he looks exhausted and cold and just, really bad. It makes Gabe feel sick. He slides the window shut and slowly steps over to William like he’s approaching a spooked animal. 

William still jumps when Gabe sets a hand on his shoulder, kneeling in front of the guy. 

“Hey, Bill, are you… fuck… you look like shit.”

A raspy laugh echoes out of William’s throat which turns into a hiccup and sob. Gabe cups his hands under William’s chin and swipes tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, baby, look at me.” 

William does, staring straight at Gabe. “Gabe… I… Kiss me, please…”

Gabe presses a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s lips before pulling back. William shakes his head, hanging it. 

“I know this isn’t how it usually goes. I’m supposed to give you a ring,” William whispers. 

“You don’t-”

“I need to do this, Gabe. I… I’m sorry…”

“William, listen. I’ll marry you, William. I’ll marry you in a fucking parking lot if you wanted me to.” William just laughs and Gabe continues. “Listen, tomorrow, fuck, it’s already tomorrow, today, at a reasonable hour-”

“You mean three in the afternoon.”

Gabe smiles. “Later, we’ll go and you can pick out a nice, shiny ring and  _ I’ll _ get down on one knee and then we can tell your parents and mine and we’ll have a nice, sparkly, over the top wedding and we can live together and have a dog or some shit and I’ll kiss you goodbye as you head off to work to provide for me.”

William laughs, his voice breaking. 

“Now, come on, you need to get some sleep, we’ll figure this shit out in the morning.” Gabe gets to his feet and literally picks William up, lying him down in the bed properly. William keeps laughing his hysterical, half sobbing laugh as Gabe kicks off his shoes and slides into bed next to the elder boy, throwing the blanket over both of them and hugging William close to his chest. 

* * *

**November 2012**

_ The call comes and Donna’s heart breaks as she’s forced to tell her son that his best friend is dead. Mikey doesn’t emerge from his bed that day, and she brings down his meal with shaky hands. She kisses his forehead and when the funeral happens, she goes with him. When he runs off, she tries to stop him and fails. Instead, she just watches him go and sighs.  _

* * *

**June 2014**

_ Donna doesn’t know how she deals with it, but she does. She loses her mother. Everyone goes through it, she knows that. But losing her mother is hard. Just as hard as losing her son. Her baby boy and her dear mother, losing them both in the span of five years. Less than five years.  _

_ Mikey doesn’t cry, and she doesn’t blame him. He’s an empty shell of himself. They’re all empty. She consoles herself by buying him some more things. Records, comics, shoes, expensive clothes. Anything he hints at wanting, she buys him. She loves him and it hurts her by seeing him so soulless. It hurts more than anything.  _

* * *

**September 2015**

_ He starts the new school year and Bob helps him, she guesses. He probably also tells him to stop being a pussy or something, because it’s not long after that Mikey’s smiling again. She asks him about it and he talks about all these new friends he’s made and it makes her happy. Her baby boy, looking alive again.  _

_ And then there’s an accident. She prays to God and thanks the lord that Pete isn’t dead. She doesn’t think Mikey could handle another death by car accident.  _

_ He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this, it’s too much.  _

* * *

**November 2016**

_ The call comes just past four in the morning. Donna blindly reaches for her phone and answers. It’s the cops. They ask where Mikey is, ask what his relationship with Bob Bryar is. She says that they are close friends, and the cops say that he and his parents were killed in New York.  _

_ She rushes to Mikey’s room but he’s not there so she descends the stairs to the basement.  _

_ “Mikey?!” She calls out, but he’s not in bed. He’s not there. She rushes upstairs, Donald walking sleepily out of their room. She looks in the bathroom, in the living room, kitchen, laundry. “Micheal?!” _ _   
  
_

_ She pulls her phone back out and calls him, waiting for the tone to go off. It doesn’t. She waits for him to pick up. He doesn’t.  _

_ “Donna, what’s wrong?” Donald asks, coming up behind her and gently placing his hand on her shoulder. She shakes under him with worry.  _

_ “Mikey’s snuck out. And he’s not picking up.” _

_ Donald’s grasp tightens on her shoulder. “Oh… darling, I’m sure he won’t have gone far.” _

_ They sit up and keep calling periodically but it keeps going to voice mail until roughly nine in the morning.  _

** _“Hello?” _ ** _ His voice is groggy like he’s been sleeping.  _

_ “Michael!” _

** _“Hi, mom…”_ **

_ As the conversation continues, she pushes through her anger at how dangerous his actions were.  _

_ “We were so worried about you…” _ _   
  
_

** _“I gotta go, mom.”_ ** _ Mikey hangs up and Donna cries into her husband’s side.  _

_ He stays in New York for two weeks before coming home and hugging her for a full ten minutes and then refusing to let her out of his sight for another few hours.  _

* * *

**March 2018**

“Mikey!” A voice greets happily. “What a surprise, seeing you here!” 

Mikey looks up, blinking. Gabe Saporta is standing there. In a jewellery store. And, sure, okay, you could ask the same to Mikey. But Mikey is there buying a gift for his mom. It’s very unlikely that Gabe’s there for the same reason. 

“What’re you doing here?” Mikey asks.

“You first,” Gabe shoots back. 

“Present for mom.” He gestures to the earrings that the guy behind the desk is wrapping up. Gabe lets out an ‘ah’ and then waits as Mikey pays before dragging him over to the other end of the store, where many different types of rings are set out. William Beckett stands there, leaning over the glass. He seems to be examining the rings one by one before he reaches blindly and grabs Gabe by the arm, pulling him closer. 

“That one.”

Gabe looks closer and then pets William on the head. “That’s perfect.”

Mikey watches, confused, as William walks out and sits on a bench while Gabe buys  _ two _ of the same ring. He happily shows them off to Mikey. 

“Look at these bad boys.”

“What are they for?” Mikey questions, confused and slightly intrigued. “Promise rings or something?”

Gabe laughs. “Engagement rings, dude.”

Mikey blinks. What?

“What?”

“Get this… last night, William called me and asked me to marry him,” Gabe tells him as they walk over to where William is sitting. The guy is staring straight at Mikey. 

“C’mon, Will, I wanna do this right.”

Mikey waves and backs away, standing by a pillar and watching as Gabe gets down on one knee in front of William. A mother gasps and holds her toddler back and an old woman stands up straighter. It seems like everyone stops in place. 

“William Beckett,” Gabe starts and William sits up, looking straight at Gabe. “I am in love with you. You may have asked me last night, tears in your eyes, but I’m gonna ask you officially. Bill… will you marry me?”

William bursts out laughing and mocks dainty holding out his hand before smiling. 

“Of course I will. I asked you first.”

Gabe slides a ring on William’s left ring finger and then William takes the other and slides it on Gabe’s finger before kissing his knuckles. Around them, people start clapping and Gabe stands, holding out his hand and pulling William to his feet before picking him up and spinning him around. 

* * *

The first thing William hears when he gets home is the sharp intake of his mom’s breath. He turns around to face her and looks sheepish. She just takes his left hand and holds it close to her eyes, taking in every detail of the little ring on his finger. 

It is gorgeous, he can admit. It’s why he picked it. It was luckily somewhat cheaper than all the others in that store. Gabe and he decided to pay for them together and so his savings are looking a little sad now. Not too bad, but still, reasonably sadder than usual. 

“William.” She starts slowly. “You’re not supposed to wear a ring on your left ring finger except if it’s-”

“An engagement or wedding ring,” he cuts in. “I know, mom.”

She gives him a frown. “Then why are you doing as such?”

  
  
“Because… it is an engagement ring?” He says simply and then walks away and she rushes to catch up with him as he walks towards his room. 

“William! You… you’re not being serious, are you?” She seizes his bicep, pulling him back. 

“Why would I joke about it, mom?” He asks and then pulls away, slipping into his room and shutting the door. 

At dinner, his mom brings it up at the table and his dad’s eyes narrow in on the ring. His sister simply watches in confusion as he straightens his posture. 

“William, explain,” his dad demands. He shrugs. 

“I’m engaged, what’s the matter with that? I’m eighteen, I can decide for myself whether I want to get married or not.”

“Darling…” His mom begins. “You…”

“You don’t even have a girlfriend,” his sister cuts in and he sighs, resisting the urge to hit his head against the table. 

“No, I don’t,” he says, monotone.

“Then who on earth are you marrying?!” His mom throws her hands in the air.

“Wait…” he pauses. “You haven’t figured it out yet? I’ve left enough hints. Seriously?”

“Figured what out?” His dad asks.

William laughs. “I’m gay.” He shakes his head. “You didn’t know?”   


All three of them stare at him. Then his mom clears her throat. “Oh…”

“That’s great, son.”

“Wow, I would have never guessed,” his sister adds unhelpfully. 

He rolls his eyes. 

“That still doesn’t explain who you’re marrying,” his mom points out as he gets up from the dinner table. 

He rolls his eyes again. “Gabe.” 

She splutters as he walks out and places his dishes on the bench and heads up to his room. He wonders if Gabe had it any easier, telling his parents.   
  


* * *

“I’m getting married!” Gabe yells down to his parents and they just call up ‘that’s lovely, sweetheart’. They don’t believe him. It makes him laugh. 

* * *

**December 2018**

Mikey has  _ everyone _ over for Christmas. It’s reminiscent of his birthday, except now Gabe and William are seated at the table, their rings shining in the light. Lindsey has Jamia sitting in her lap, almost clinging to her. Billie is one cigarette off chain-smoking. 

It’s a little tense if he’s being honest. His birthday was spent with simply his parents, but his parents are now in the room, sitting there and looking a little awkward among all the people around. The youngest people there are also one of the few married couples there, but when Mikey brings this up to Brendon, Brendon just winks and pats his pocket and Mikey sighs. 

“Hey, hey!” Slightly drunk, Kitty calls them all forward. “How about we all say somethin’ we’re grateful for!”

Jimmy laughs. “The fuck you’ve been drinkin’, Kit?”

Lindsey wacks him on the arm. “I agree. And… you have to  _ declare _ your love for someone. Don’t have to be  _ romantic _ love, but it can be!”

A lot of them gulp. Mikey rolls his eyes. 

Pete steps forward, clearing his throat. “Okay, okay, so… I’m grateful for music. That shit can make anything better, help you, all that important shit.”

If Mikey didn’t know Pete better, he’d think that Pete was sorta drunk himself. 

“And I  _ love _ Mikey Way! But…” he pauses. “I do really love Patrick Stump too.”

Patrick just hits him in the shoulder and smiles. Mikey shoots Pete a look and he shrugs. 

“Me next!” Gabe yells. “I am entirely grateful that everyone came around and let me marry this beautiful motherfucker before I turned eighteen. I don’t think he could wait that long.”

William bursts out laughing. 

“And I love… William.”

Pete mocks a shocked gasp. “Oh my, who knew?”

Lindsey waves. “Me now!” Mikey knows that she’s had  _ something _ to drink. “I am grateful that I get to live out my passion and that I’ve never been disgraced from it. And, of course, I love Jamia. I love all of you, Jimmy, Kitty, Steve, Mikey, and all the rest of you lot. But I love Jamia most.”

Dallon then speaks up. “I’m grateful for living. For finally being with the family that I want, not the one that I was born into. And I love both my girlfriend, Breezy, and my boyfriend, Ryan.” 

Ryan Seaman and Breezy both blush and curl closer into the taller male. Breezy then goes. “I’m grateful that I’ve been able to meet and befriend everyone in this room. And, I’ll repeat, I love Ryan and Dallon.” She pecks a kiss on Ryan’s cheek. 

Ryan simply hums in return before speaking. “I am grateful to exist in this place in time. To have lived in a world so full of life and joy. And I love Dallon and Breezy like I always have,” he finishes softly.

Steve clears his throat. “I’m grateful that you lot are all here. That you’re all in one piece and can actually enjoy what is going on.” He makes eye contact with Mikey and nods. “It’s a shame it can’t be said for some others. And, honestly, I love all of you.”

“I couldn’t have put it any better myself,” Billie says. “I’m also grateful that I taught some of you music, because if I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t be here, hanging out with a bunch of kids, would I?”

Spencer speaks, shifting in his seat. “I’m grateful for the same thing. I’m glad we’ve all made it this far and we’ve all got bright futures ahead of us. I’m grateful Pete woke up.”

“I’m not,” Jon pokes Pete and Pete huffs. In response, Spencer hits Jon on the arm and the guy laughs. “Hey, he’s too loud.”

Spencer shakes his head. “I love my boyfriend of how many years, I’m losing track, Jon.” And then he frowns. “But maybe I’ve made a mistake.” Jon frowns. 

“Fuck you, man. Okay, I’m grateful that I’m still alive and that I can keep going no matter what. And, yeah, whatever, I love you, Spence.”

“And I’m grateful that you guys actually  _ can _ shut up sometimes,” Ryan Ross cuts in. “I’m grateful that I got away from Las Vegas and moved here with my friends. I’m grateful that we’ve reunited with Dallon and that I’ve made all these new friends here. I also might love Brendon Urie, though he tests my patience sometimes.”

“You wouldn’t love me any other way,” Brendon hums. Mikey raises his eyebrows, waiting for the guy to continue but then Brendon discreetly gestures to his jacket pocket and Mikey rolls his eyes. 

“This was  _ my  _ idea, so I’m going next,” Kitty says. “I’m grateful to play music, to be with the people in this room, to travel the world and actually meet people and have fun. And I. Love. Jimmy. Of course.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course.” He then shakes his head. “I’m grateful that I get to front a band with so many good people in it. And I may just love Kitty… If I feel like it.”

Kitty laughs loudly.

“Well, I’m glad that everyone here is actually a nice person. I’m grateful for actually having good friends that are good people. And I love all of you,” Patrick then pulls on Pete’s arm. “Maybe you more, but only if you behave.” Pete just cackles. 

William coughs. And it’s sort of a shuddering cough that makes everyone freeze before he smiles. “I am grateful that I was freed. And that I’m here, today, alive and free. I’ve struggled a lot with my experience, but I’ve come to realise how much it’s given me. I wouldn’t know any of you, except Gabe, if I hadn’t been through all of that.” He breaks off with another cough. “But… yeah, I love Gabe, my darling husband. And I love all of you.”

Lindsey then pushes Jamia a few times and she hits back playfully. “Fine, I’m grateful that I snuck out and went to see that show. That night changed my whole life and I’m grateful that I actually did it. I’m grateful that I had the guts to run away, too, not stay home in such a guarded, lifeless environment. And I love Lindsey, of course.” She turns her head and kisses the girl softly. 

Lindsey then narrows her eyes at Mikey and he frowns. “What?”

“Go!” 

“Brendon hasn’t gone yet, nag him.”

Brendon shoots him a dirty glare. “I’m going  _ last _ .” 

Mikey shrugs. “Fine, fuckers. I’m grateful… I’m grateful for a lot of things. I’m grateful that every single fucking one of you is alive, despite all odds. I’m grateful that maybe I’m not actually the curse that I used to think I was. I’m grateful that Pete kept trying to talk to me and get me to be his friend.” He shoots Pete a smile. “I’m grateful that Billie was my teacher and that Brendon figured it out.” Brendon laughs. “I’m grateful that I met Jamia on that train, and that I managed to solve William’s case and find him. And I’m eternally grateful that you’re all here tonight.” 

“And who do you love?” Ryan Seaman asks softly, his kind eyes looking over him. Mikey hadn’t thought about that yet. 

His love life is a mess, he knows it. He still loves Ray, and once upon a time, he  _ might’ve _ fallen in love with Pete if not for his grief, though not any longer. One day, he’s sure he might move on, but not yet. He still loves Ray. 

“I love all of you. I also love my parents.” His mom, who’d ducked in to say goodnight, smiles at him before kissing him on the forehead and waving goodnight to everyone else. Mikey breathes deeply before continuing. “I love my brother, my dear, dear brother, may his soul rest in peace. I love Bob, who didn’t deserve what happened. And… I love Ray. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly move on, one day I might, but for now, he’s still the only one I love.” 

Jamia reaches over and takes his hand and he smiles at her. He then looks to Brendon, who looks suddenly extremely nervous. He bites his lip and then starts. 

“Okay, so I’m grateful for all of you, for life, for living, for getting out of stupid fucking Vegas and coming here and starting this brand new life. I’m grateful that I’m not forced into religion, that I can find that for myself if I ever choose to, that I can be who  _ I _ want to be and have none of you reject me.” 

Mikey then raises his eyebrow and Brendon shoots him another dirty look. He sticks his hand into his pocket discreetly, but William catches it and shares a look with Mikey, who nods. 

“And… I will forever, and I mean fucking forever, none of that ‘til death do us part’ bullshit. Nah, I will always love George Ryan Ross the fucking third. Always, fucking always.” He grabs Ryan’s hand and pulls him towards the middle of the room and Ryan’s face is twisted into a confused expression.

Brendon takes Ryan’s hand and kisses it softly. “Oh, baby.” He slowly lowers himself to the ground and Ryan’s eyes go wide, almost stumbling back. “I love you so fucking much.”

He fumbles to pull the little box out of his pocket and the room watches with stunned expressions, aside from William and Gabe, who are smiling with knowing eyes. 

“So… will you do me this huge fucking favour and marry me already?” 

Ryan is silent for a few moments before he cracks a smile. “That’s a pretty large favour, Brendon, but I will do you this huge fucking favour and marry you. Put the damn ring on my finger.” Brendon grins, bright and wild, and quickly does as he’s told, standing and kissing Ryan swiftly before hugging him tightly. 

Mikey watches them with bright eyes and feels so happy. It feels like nothing could go wrong at this moment. 

Everyone's so enthralled in their happiness that they don’t notice William dissolve into a coughing fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I might be neglecting the other boys a little so next chapter will feature more of the black parade.
> 
> Song for the chapter   
Oh Noel - I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unless I speed type one tomorrow afternoon, this is likely the last one before Christmas. 
> 
> Holy shit that concert was incredible. Just watching the livestream (DietShampoo is a godsend) has me hyped for the concert I'm going to in March. 
> 
> Anyway, have a chapter. Hope you like. 
> 
> One day I swear I'll name these chapters. One day.

**February 2019**

Gabe doesn’t notice at first, too enthralled with the new apartment and William’s nineteenth birthday and getting a job working as a tech for Green Day. He doesn’t notice how William begins to look a little paler every day, starts having more coughing fits during the night, waking Gabe up at three in the morning, talking in his sleep as he works through awful fever dreams. Gabe looks after him, but he never notices anything abnormal. Maybe he just doesn’t want to accept that William’s sick, and getting sicker. 

It’s Billie Joe who first makes him question it. He asks how William’s after a performance and Gabe tells him that William is  _ fine _ , before thinking about how William had been coughing over the phone that night. 

As soon as he gets home he frowns when he finds William in bed, smiling as he tells Gabe that he’s not feeling well and he  _ must just have a cold _ . But he looks worried, and that causes Gabe to begin to worry. 

Next, Mikey jumps when William coughs in front of him, wide eyes watching as William walks away. Gabe realises what he’s scared of, but he tries not to think about that. The fear of William dying is too preposterous to dwell over right now. Of course, Mikey is valid in thinking about it, he’s lost so many that he’s even confessed to Gabe that he thinks he’s cursed. 

Then Lindsey pulls William aside and William walks away from her with a pale face and hugs Gabe tight for at least ten minutes. 

Gabe tries his damn hardest not to worry, but it gets harder every day. 

* * *

**March 2019**

“You said prophecy, Fear, didn’t you?” Gerard asks softly, swinging his legs from the window. He’s inside one of the tall buildings. Frank is currently searching the other levels for things to play with. Last time he’d found a few dusty board games and a Rubix cube, which had entertained him for long enough. 

“I did,” Fear hums. “That was a long time ago, I’m surprised you remember that.” 

Gerard sighs. “Of course I remember. That was one of the worst days of my life.”

Fear settles herself down next to him. It’s a tight squeeze but she makes it work. “The day you died?”

“Yes.”

“Which is also the day you met The Rhythmist, don’t forget.” 

Gerard frowns. “I know, but… well… my brother lost me, Fear. He looked up to me. I was all he ever really had. He didn’t have friends of his own, I left him all alone.” He wipes away stray tears. “But… no matter… I asked you a question.”

“And my answer is yes, there is a prophecy.” She bites her lip. “How much of it do you remember.”

“I’m The Leader.”

“Yes.”

“There are five of us, The Rhythmist, Frank; The Guitarist, Ray; The Drummer, Bob; And The Bassist, but I don’t know who that is.”

“He’s not here yet. Not long now, though, my dear.” 

He furrows his brow and then squints at her. “Halloween?”

“Yes, my dear, the next All Hallows Eve that comes will be the day of his death.”

Gerard gulps. “Why can’t he live for a little longer?”

She shakes her head. “Ten years, Leader. Ten years.”

“Anything else I need to know?” He asks softly, pouting. 

“Well… last March, Me, Regret, and Mother War’s soldiers all met up.”

“Soldiers? What the…”

“Ah… It seems I did not tell you of this.” Fear thinks for a minute. “I chose my soldier a fair time ago, one that was rescued from the clutches of a group of disgusting excuses of human beings, Mother War chose a dear who was rebelling against the ideals of her society, looking for a free, joyful world, Regret chose hers as he slept in a coma, a long, long time ago when he was both ill in body and in mind.”

Gerard frowns. “And?”

“They will join us within the next ten years, don’t worry.”

She says this but horror has already filled his entire expression. “What? No… oh, no, no… why?” He takes her hands and clutches them tightly. “Don’t do this. Please.”

She tilts her head and extracts her hands from his grip. “I believe The Rhythmist is calling for you, dear.”   


Gerard scowls at her and gets up, pushing her roughly aside and running down the stairs where he can hear Frank calling out his name. 

“Gerard! Gerard!” Frank yells as Gerard finally makes his way into the room Frank’s in. He’s holding a Nintendo game cube with two controllers. “Look what I-” He takes in Gerard’s tear-filled eyes and gently leans over and places the objects at his feet before stepping over them and walking towards Gerard slowly. 

“Frank…”

“Hey, baby? What’s wrong?” 

Gerard begins to sob as Frank wraps his arms around the elder boy’s frame. 

“What’s-”

“More people are going to die because of this, Frankie. More people.” He begins to cry even harder, clutching tighter. “I… I can’t do this…”

“It’s okay, baby,” Frank whispers, kissing Gerard’s forehead softly. “I promise you this will all be okay.” 

“I… I need… Mikey, remember Mikey, he… what if he died, that’s what I think about. I think about him in their position and it crushes me half to death.”

Frank runs his fingers through Gerard’s short hair. “We should go see Elena and talk to the others. They deserve to know.” 

Gerard only nods, hiccuping. 

* * *

“You think Mikey’ll be like us when he gets down here?” Ray asks. “Or like them.”

“I don’t want to see him down here for a good few years yet, my dears,” Elena tells them. 

Bob sighs. “I have a bad feeling that we’re going to find out soon.”

They all look to the ground. 

“We can’t tell Gerard,” Ray whispers. “Because I think you’re right.”

* * *

**September 2019**

“Lindsey?” Mikey peeks his head around the corner. Lindsey is curled up, crying. “What’s wrong?”

It’s another one of his usual parties for his birthday. But she’s sitting in his hallway, crying her eyes out, and he has no idea why. 

“Lindsey?” He settles next to her. 

“Mikey,” she mumbles, gulping. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I have a feeling something bad is going to happen.” She then curls back up and he tries not to let it bother him as he walks back to the party. William coughing harshly does nothing to help him. 

* * *

It’s nearly three in the morning is what Gabe deciphers when he wakes up. He wonders for a few seconds what woke him up before he hears it again. It’s William again, coughing harshly. Rolling onto his back and shuffling back to sit up, he reaches over to William, who’s hunched over the sheets, coughing and choking. After his coughing fit dies down, he glances over at Gabe with a pale face and smiles sadly. 

“Fuck, William…” Gabe reaches over and places a hand to William’s forehead. Warmth spreads against the back of his hand and he gulps. “You’re getting worse…” He climbs out of bed and walks through their small apartment to the kitchen, reaching for the medical kit. He then pulls out the thermometer and takes it back to William, sticking it in the boy’s mouth even at his chokes and gags. 

It comes back  _ way _ too high. 

Gabe’s eyes go wide and his breathing speeds up, heart rate speeds up, but everything else happens in slow motion. He takes his phone in his hand and calls 911 before William even has the chance to stop him. 

“Gabe…” He rasps. “You don’t…”

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Uh… my husband, he’s really sick. Like… really, really sick. He needs an ambulance.” He tries his hardest not to stutter. William coughs again, thick and awful. As he blunders through the call, telling her the address, apartment number, how long this has been happening, the worse he feels. 

“How old is he, sweetheart?” 

“Nineteen.”

“Your husband is nineteen?” 

“Yes.”

“How old are you?” She then asks. He breathes heavily down the phone. 

  
  
“Eighteen.”

“You’re eighteen and married?”

Gabe scowls. “Yes.”

She doesn’t bring it up again. He opens the door for the paramedics and William just cringes back from their touch and coughs harder. Eventually, they get him down the stairs and into the ambulance, Gabe settling into the vehicle next to him. He holds his husband’s hand, rings both shining in the bright light, and tries to stay strong. 

* * *

**October 2019**

“I know, I know,” Mikey mutters as his parents remind him of all these little things he has to keep track of. They’re leaving for the next two weeks. He’s glad to get the house to himself for once, but it’s scary. If Gerard was still here, they’d be staying there together. Fuck, he just turned twenty-one, he’s an adult now, a legal fucking adult. He can drink and everything. Fuck. Bob didn’t even make it this far. He was twenty when he died. Almost twenty-one. Ray was seventeen. Gerard was  _ fourteen _ . Fuck. 

“Bye mom,” he simply says and she smiles at him. A hesitant, worried smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after the house, I promise.”

“Look after yourself first,” she demands. “I… I can’t lose you too.” 

He nods slowly. “I love you, mom, dad.” 

His dad leans over and ruffles his hair, which is growing out brown again. Usually, he wears it slicked back, but today it’s loose and fluffy. It’s reaching Gerard levels of long, he’s got to cut it soon. 

It’s something he’s always done, never let it grow to that shoulder-length, shaggy hair that his brother had. He’s never dyed it black either. His brother had naturally dark hair, pretty much black, but he’d dye it anyway. Their mom would berate him about it, but she’d always smiled at him, glad that he looked how  _ he _ wanted to. 

“We love you, sweetheart,” she says and kisses his cheek, her lipstick getting a little smeared against it. He just laughs softly and she smiles at him. “We’ll be back in no time.” 

He watches as his dad finishes loading up the car and then they both jump in and wave goodbye as they drive down the road, away from their house. 

As soon as they leave, he goes back inside, trudges down the basement steps and curls up on his brother’s bed. It’s his brother’s. Not his, not anyone else's. It’s always going to be Gerard’s. No matter what. After what feels like an hour, but is probably no more than ten minutes, he hops up and puts one of Gerard’s records in the player, listening and bopping his head to the melody. 

He wipes his eyes and curls up.

“Why… Gerard? Why?”

* * *

William’s back at home when Mikey visits the second time. He looks like hell, but he looks better than he did in hospital. He’s not sure if there’s actually been an improvement or that the hospital walls had just made him look so weak and sickly. 

“Asking you how you’re feeling would be a pretty shit thing to ask, wouldn’t it?” 

William cracks a smile. “Tell me about it.” He waves. “How are you, though.”

“Mom and dad have gone away for the next few days.”

“That’s nice. My parents have visited a few times. Gabe’s managed to keep them out of the house, though.” He pats the bed and Mikey hesitantly sits on the edge. 

“Do you know what it is?”

“No clue. The doctors don’t either. They said I’ve been improving, so they let me go home, but Gabe’s got 911 on speed dial.” He chuckles a little which dissolves into a small coughing fit. Gabe rushes in but by the time he gets there, William has righted himself on the bed. “Fuck, man, I didn’t think it’d be me first. I hoped it wouldn’t be me first.”

Mikey scrunches up his eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“Doesn’t matter,” William answers. “You’ll understand one day.”

“You gonna make a joke about being old and wise, kiddo? Cause I got you by a good two years.” 

William just shakes his head. “Don’t need to.”

Gabe pats William on the head and helps the guy slide down under the sheets. “You should get some sleep, Bill. That’s what the doctors said.”

William gives him a minuscule nod and closes his eyes, Mikey standing up. As soon as they leave the room, Mikey gives Gabe a look. 

“How bad is he?”

Gabe bites his lip. “He’s better than the hospital, but he’s declining again. I… I don’t want to lose him, man. I can’t… I almost lost him once.”

“I get that more than anyone else would, dude.” Mikey opens his arms up and hugs him, all six feet four inches of him. Gabe, trembling, grasps the short male tighter. 

“Thank you for finding him. Without you, I would never have gotten to be with him. And I can’t imagine what might’ve happened to him if he hadn’t been found.”

Mikey simply sighs. “If I’d had the chance to save Gerard, I would’ve. I’m glad you got the chance to be with him. I’d give anything to have that with all the people I’ve lost.”

Gabe pulls away and simply smiles sadly. “I know you would.” 

* * *

Mikey finds himself feverish that night and alarm bells ring loudly in his head, but he tries his best to ignore them and, instead, reads some old comics and listens to some music and flicks on the television and watches some nameless show that he doesn’t pay attention to. 

He keeps thinking of William, of how bad he looked sinking into the sheets. He thinks back to how bad Gerard looked before he died, the sweat dripping from his nose in little droplets, splattering on the ground. His hair, greasy and slick. His arms covered in goosebumps, shivering up a storm. 

As he thinks, he finds himself beginning to shiver. But the house is shut up nicely, and it’s not even that cold of a day. Nevermind.

The thought that ten years ago, he lost his brother. Halloween, what a cursed day. 

What a cur-

He doesn’t finish the thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Songs for this chapter  
Mary - Big Thief  
Early Sunsets Over Monroeville


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and sad 
> 
> hope you all had a good christmas/whatever else people celebrate. Hope to release another before the new year. I wrote all of this today, you guys should be proud haha

**November 2019**

The clock hits 12 and William launches himself out of bed and to the bathroom, heaving but not throwing anything up. Gabe follows him quickly, helping him up and when William’s legs give out on him, Gabe carries him back to bed. But William’s panting and sweating and his heart is racing. Gabe lies him back down on the bed and William pushes him away, reaching for the phone. 

“Bill, fuck.”

William’s fingers wrap around the phone and he pulls it towards him. But his grip ends up failing and the phone clatters to the ground beside the bed. Gabe walks over to it and picks it up, eyebrows creasing in confusion and concern. 

“What is it?”   
  


“Call…” his voice is raspy. “M-Mik-” He’s cut off by a coughing fit, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. “C-C…” he whines. 

Gabe holds his hands up in surrender and then dials Mikey’s phone number. No one picks up. 

“He’s probably asleep, baby.” 

William then gives him a look, a terrified look. “No,” he whispers. 

“Will-” Gabe starts but William’s jumping out of bed. He falls to the ground and crawls to where his wheelchair is kept. The hospital gave it to them in case William ever wanted to leave the house for a little while. 

“We… we need to…” 

“Baby…”

William uses all his strength to pull himself into the wheelchair and then begins to push it slowly out the room and down the hall. Gabe rushes after him and grasps hold of the handles, stopping William from moving and William just whines again. 

“Wait, baby.” Gabe then leaves, returning wearing a hoodie, holding a hoodie and two pairs of shoes. “If you really want to go check on him, we can. Just… put these on.”

As William shrugs the hoodie on and laces up his shoes, Gabe returns with a blanket, which he drapes over William’s front and legs before he starts pushing him again. Gabe rolls him out the front door and past a few apartments before their new neighbour pokes their head out. She seems really nice from what Gabe’s seen. She’s only been here a few weeks, she doesn’t know about William at all. 

“Gabe?”

“Hayley,” he nods at the redhead and William sags his head tiredly. Gabe immediately wants to take him back inside, but he told him he would take him to check on Mikey, so that’s what they’re doing. 

“I heard noises, are you…” She trails off, looking at William. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, we’re fine. We’re just going to check on a friend. This is my husband, William, by the way.” Gabe’s sure she’s seen his ring, she’s just never asked about it. 

“Nice to meet you.” She frowns and then adds, “Let me know if you need anything, Gabe. I’m a nurse, don’t forget.” 

“I won’t,” he tells her and then waves goodbye, wheeling William down the hall, to the elevator, where they take it to the ground floor. As it slowly goes down, Gabe goes around the front of William and crouches. 

“Hey, baby. What’s going on?”

“S-” William’s cut off by a cough. He starts again. “Something’s wrong. W-with Mikey.”

The elevator dings and Gabe stands quickly, wheeling William out and to his car. He picks William up from the wheelchair and places him in the passenger seat, loading the chair into the boot before jumping in and starting the engine, giving William one more look. William is falling asleep in his seat, hair falling in front of his face. Gabe pulls out of the carpark and drives to the Way’s house, like he promised. 

“We’re here, sweetheart.” He jumps out, runs around, and gets the wheelchair back out, unfolding it before opening the passenger seat and shaking William a little. The elder boy blinks his eyes open slowly and Gabe kisses him on the forehead before picking him up and placing him in the wheelchair. He pushes the thing down the driveway and knocks on the front door. 

No answer. 

“He’s probably asleep,” Gabe mutters. All the same, he tries one of the front windows and climbs inside when he finds it unlocked. He then unlocks the front door and wheels William inside slowly. “Mikey?” He calls out. 

William suddenly takes hold of the wheels and pushes himself through the house, towards the living room, where they can see a figure unconscious on the couch. Gabe gives William a look as the man struggles over the carpet near the figure, now identified as Mikey, and pushes him a little. 

“Mikey?” Gabe asks tentatively and William turns his head to look at Gabe with wide eyes. 

“He’s…” 

* * *

_ “Well, you can hide a lot about yourself _

_ But honey, what're you gonna do? _

_ And you can sleep in a coffin _

_ But the past ain't through with you.” _

As soon as Gerard starts humming, Frank springs up and grasps hold of his guitar. He sees Bob run over and sit at his drum kit, taking his drumsticks and beginning the drumbeat. Ray then joins them, playing hard and fast. 

_ “'Cause we are all a bunch of liars _

_ Tell me, baby, who do you wanna be? _

_ And we are all about to sell it _

_ 'Cause it's tragic with a capital 'T' _

_ Let it be, let it be, let it be!” _

As they play and sing, the float begins to move. For the first time, it begins to actually move. The soulless people move away from it, parting to let it through, and then, when Frank turns around, he sees them marching behind them. The black parade has finally come to fruition.

_ “'Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends _

_ (Ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba) _

_ And we all get together when we bury our friends _

_ (Ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba) _

_ It's been eight bitter years _

_ Since I've been seeing your face _

_ (Ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba) _

_ And you're walking away _

_ And I will die in this place.” _

The marchers sing along, but Gerard’s voice soars above. Frank spins around again and sees the crowd is even bigger. Mother War, Fear, Regret, and Elena, have joined them, marching just behind the float, in front of the crowd. 

_ “Sometimes, you scrape and sink so low _

_ I'm shocked at what you're capable of _

_ And if this is a coronation _

_ I ain't feeling the love _

_ 'Cause we are all a bunch of animals _

_ That never paid attention in school _

_ So tell me all about your problems _

_ I was killing before killing was cool _

_ You're so cool, you're so cool, so cool!” _

And Frank gets it now. Halloween has passed. The Bassist is here. Where, he doesn’t know. But he’ll find out. Very soon.

_ “'Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends _

_ (Ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba) _

_ And we all get together when we bury our friends _

_ (Ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba) _

_ It's been nine bitter years since I've been seeing your face _

_ (Ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba) _

_ And you're walking away _

_ And I will die in this place.” _

* * *

Mikey blinks his eyes open and is greeted by ash and grey skies. He cringes at the light and then frowns. What the hell? Where is…

Oh no.

He was shivering. He was sweating. He had a fever. He…

Oh fuck.

Oh shit… this can’t be happening to him. No… no…

“Fuck me. I’m dead…”

He hates everything. Cursed, cursed, cursed. He stands, running his hands through his hair and looking down, finding himself wearing a black military jacket he’s never seen before. He begins to walk, no, march, towards the broken buildings that stretch high above the skyline. As it gets closer, he hears a song and a band and a voice. 

_ “You'll never take me alive, you'll never take me alive _

_ Do what it takes to survive, 'cause I'm still here _

_ You'll never get me alive, you'll never take me alive _

_ Do what it takes to survive, and I'm still here.” _

There’s a parade and it’s marching away from him. He runs to catch up to it. He pushes his way through people who march in sync, sing in sync. He pushes and pushes and pushes, reaching his way to just behind the float. There’s one person he’s looking for. One person. 

_ “You'll never take me alive, you'll never get me alive _

_ Do what it takes to survive, and I'm still here _

_ You'll never get me (Get me!) You'll never take me (Take me!) _

_ You'll never get me alive!” _

“Gerard!” He cries out and it cuts through the music. But the band keeps marching on. 

_ “'Cause we all want to party when the funeral ends _

_ (Ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba) _

_ And we all get together when we bury our friends _

_ (Ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba)” _

At his side, a woman takes his hand. He looks over and sees her face. His grandmother. She points to the float. He doesn’t understand. 

_ “It's been ten fucking years _

_ Since I've been seeing your face 'round here _

_ And you're walking away _

_ And I will drown in the fear.” _

“Gerard!” He yells again as the song finishes and a scream pierces through the silence. His grandmother pushes him towards the source as the whole parade stops and everyone falls to their knees, including the woman and two girls beside his grandmother. 

A wail follows the screams, loud and full of agony. The people all cover their ears as Mikey climbs onto the float and slowly walks towards the heartbreaking sobs coming from the front. From the lead singer. He needs to find Gerard, a voice in the back of his head reminds him but he ignores it. He, instead, crouches in front of the singer, who’s fallen to his knees, covering his face as tears flow freely. 

He looks up as Mikey places both his hands on the singer’s shoulders and they lock gazes. 

“M-Mikey…” The singer whispers and then breaks off into another wail. And Mikey can’t breathe. He can’t because. 

“Gee…” He slowly murmurs.

His brother, the fourteen-year-old with long, black hair and a blinding smile and an innocent look in his eyes, that Gerard is gone. That Gerard died exactly ten years ago. This Gerard in front of him. This twenty-four-year-old, with hair as white as snow, short and clipped like the old Gerard would have absolutely hated, the pain in his eyes, the quivering frown on his lips, this Gerard has replaced him. This is the Gerard that has been dead almost as long as he was alive. He’s grown up in a world full of death. 

It’s very Mikey-like. 

They truly are brothers, aren’t they? Mikey shuffles forward, sitting and pulling his elder brother into his arms. The man immediately curls into the embrace, clutching hold on Mikey’s jacket and pushing his head into Mikey’s shoulder. 

“Hey… I missed you…” Mikey whispers and Gerard cries harder. Mikey feels more arms wrap around him. He looks up and sees the boy who he’d solved the murder of, Frank, barely a year younger than him. And then he sees Bob, still as strong and gruff yet warm as always, who’s grown older as well. And finally, he sees Ray. With a sad smile, holding tight to Mikey. 

“I missed all of you…” He finally says and Ray presses a kiss to the back of his head and Mikey finds himself smiling a little, especially when his grandmother joins them. He shudders, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. “So fucking much…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't run off just yet, I ain't done torturing you guys yet.
> 
> hope you liked the chapter
> 
> Song: Kill All Your Friends (The same song that the fic is named after and based on) 
> 
> I made a mix (give me suggestions as what to put in it, it's an ongoing thing)
> 
> Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2z4wlXMALQjRqbJwMrPVo0?si=iS593v9gTZG2SuecWVw6-g  
Youtube - https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLNsyIFmYjAfqEtb9s5H3qcULCn9vmKPMK
> 
> Songs for this chapter  
Smoke Rings - Frank Iero  
Kill All Your Friends - My Chemical Romance


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy get ready
> 
> happy new year by the way, hope you all had a good start to 2020

**November 2019**

Hayley knew Gabe wasn’t a regular guy when she first met him. For one, he was eighteen and had a wedding ring on his finger. Two, he’d leave his apartment exhausted. And three, he just gave her an odd vibe. Never a bad vibe, just an odd one. 

She worked a lot, as did anyone in her field, but whenever she saw Gabe, she’d attempt to engage him in a conversation. 

At midnight, on one of her off days, she finally meets Gabe’s partner. A slightly older boy who looks incredibly ill, sitting in a wheelchair, half asleep, with a blanket over his lap. Now she understands why Gabe rarely leaves his apartment for long periods at a time. He told her he worked from home, and with his husband’s situation, she could understand. 

William is the man’s name. He has long, dark hair that hangs in front of his gaunt face. 

She meets him again a few days later as she’s coming back from her night shift. She waves to him and he gives her a sad smile back, pushing his wheelchair further down the hall towards the elevator. 

“Hey… uh… William?” He turns his head when she calls out. “You need any help?”

He shakes his head. “No, thanks for offering though.” 

A week later she comes up with an idea after another long night shift. Gabe’s been looking stressed lately. 

“Hey, Gabe.” She catches him as he’s coming home from a grocery run. “I wanted to talk to you for a moment.” 

He quirks his eyebrow and motions for her to continue.

“I… well… would you consider having an at-home nurse for William?” She asks. He pauses. 

“To look after him?”

“Yeah, it’s just, I’ve noticed you’ve been extremely rundown lately and I know you’ve been working a fuck ton, so I just thought… I could be his personal nurse if you want?” She hums. “I’ll look after him during the day and then go back to my apartment during the night.”

He bites his lip. “I mean… that would be… that would be amazing… are you sure?”

She nods. “I’m happy to help, Gabe. William seems like a really nice person and I think it’d be really fun to look after him. Much nicer than dealing with the patients in the ER.” 

He scrunches up his nose. “God, don’t make me think about that, yikes. We went in an ambulance and holy shit were people good at complaining about stupid things.” 

She sends him a smile. “So, should I tell my boss I quit?” 

“William’s going to love you.” He sends her a grin back. 

* * *

**December 2019**

The funeral is painful. They put it off for a few more weeks because Donna just couldn’t handle having her son’s buried in the same month. It was awful to come home to. She’d gotten the call at about 1:30 in the morning. William had been fretting and so Gabe had tried calling, gotten a bad feeling, driven around to the Way’s house, gone in through the unlocked window, and found Mikey lying on the couch, dead. 

The doctors ruled in as the exact same disease that her eldest son, Gerard, had died from. They told her that it’s actually more common for people around Mikey’s age to die from it than people around Gerard’s.

She curses the people that told her not to get him tested. They could have  _ done _ something. But no, now her  _ other _ baby boy is getting buried in the ground right next to his brother. She wouldn’t have him anywhere else. Right next to his big brother, near his first love and his grandmother. 

The people that show up are the exact people she expects. Not many family members, but a lot of friends. Donna and Donald get there first, to sort everything out. After that, Mikey’s friends start to turn up. The first are Pete and Patrick, followed by Ryan, Brendon, Jon, and Spencer, who rode together. Then Gabe and William. 

William looks awful. She remembers the tall teen, with a bright smile and bundles of energy. Now he looks tiny in his wheelchair, skin a pale white. His hair looks greasy and stringy, like Gerard’s would occasionally. He still gives her a smile, but it’s sad. She’s told that he’s got a nurse to take care of him during the day, so he doesn’t have to be in hospital. 

The next people to turn up is a large group of guys and girls. She recognises them as the gang that Mikey met in New York. Jamia, who Mikey met first, she’s told, is accompanied by her girlfriend, Lindsey. They carry bouquets. All the others carry single flowers. The boy she recognises as Jimmy carries a sunflower. The girl called Kitty holds two roses, both black. Steve carries a lily, the three she recognises as Dallon, Ryan, and Breezy all hold cherry blossoms. Donna doesn’t even know where they got the gorgeous flowers. 

The last person to turn up is Billie Joe Armstrong. He keeps to himself, despite knowing most of the people in the room. After the service, where Pete, Jamia, and Gabe go up to speak, the pallbearers stand. 

Donna picked them herself, thinking of Mikey as she did. Gabe, Pete, Brendon, Ryan Ross, Jimmy, and Steve. Her husband, instead, holds her hand as she follows. She sees Lindsey push William’s wheelchair and she sees Kitty wrap her arm around Jamia. 

After the burial, which is completely silent, the rest of Mikey’s family clear out quickly. She hates them. They didn’t even know him. Half of them didn’t even turn up to her first born’s funeral, yet there they are, crying fake tears. 

The people left are crying real tears. Jamia is clutching Lindsey, the older girl holding her as she cries. Jimmy runs his fingers through Kitty’s hair as she holds back her tears, saying that she doesn’t want to smudge her eyeliner. Pete really cries, clinging on to Patrick. He can’t look at the grave. 

Ryan wanders off and Donna finds herself following him. 

“Ryan?” She asks. He jumps, startled. He’s stopped in front of another grave. Gerard.

“He never really told us about him.” Ryan crouches down. “What was he like?” 

Donna breathes in slowly and begins. “He was, truly, the greatest brother in the world. He did everything for Mikey. He never got irritated or annoyed. He was always patient and calm and kind. They never fought.”

“I don’t think Mikey could pick a fight with anyone,” Ryan hums. “No one would fight back.” He bites his lip. He thinks for a minute before starting. “Did he ever tell you how he became friends with all of us?” 

“I remember him talking about you all, but never the how.”

Ryan smiles sadly. “Pete was new at school. He saw Mikey and automatically wanted to be his friend. Of course, I’d seen Mikey before, but I’m me. I don’t start conversations with people I don’t know. He was like me. For different reasons, but he was. Brendon’s perfect for me, I guess. Was Ray like that? Friendly and would come talk to you first?”

She pauses. “I guess he was. He was incredibly kind.” 

Ryan laughs a little. “Pete’s like that. He was determined. None of us stopped him. We didn’t want to. Mikey always looked so lonely, so we didn’t stop Pete. Pete…” He laughs again. “Pete annoyed the hell out of Mikey. Eventually, he said yes to hanging out with us. He promised it would be a one-time thing, but it never was. We all knew that. Even Brendon, no matter how he acted, pleading for Mikey to stay. But that’s just how Brendon is.”

Donna sighs, walking over and placing her arms around him. “You’ve always been a good friend to him, Ryan.” 

He nods and a few tears slide down his cheeks. “I wish… I wish he hadn’t had to go through all that hell. He never deserved a drop of it.”

“Me too.”

* * *

“How is he?” Lindsey asks. Gabe breathes deeply. When he speaks, his voice is thick of tears. 

“They don’t think he’ll see Spring.” 

Billie squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, thinking. Damn it, why did it have to be William first? The youngest of them. It’s only a matter of time before another one of them gets ill, too. Why does it have to be this way? It doesn’t make any sense. They’ve taken so many good people and they’re taking more. 

Billie gives Gabe a nod and then walks over to William, who sighs as he looks up at him. 

“Hey, Will.” 

“Billie Joe,” he says.

“You’re getting worse, William.”

“I know,” he lets out an irritated breath. “Why me? Why me, Billie? What did I do? First I was kidnapped, now I’m dying slowly by a stupid-” he breaks off into a short coughing fit. “-stupid illness.” 

Billie sighs. “I don’t know. It’s not fair.” 

“It certainly isn’t, my boy.” 

He scowls. He’d know that voice anywhere. “Regret,” he mutters. 

William glances over at her and shifts in his wheelchair. 

“What are you doing here, Regret?” Billie asks quietly. 

“Can’t I just come see you?” She asks gently, coming closer and placing her hand on his shoulder. He flinches. 

“No,” he hisses. “What do you want?”

“The doctors are right, William. You don’t have long. The good news is that Mikey has joined the Parade. It has begun to march. We are ahead of schedule. This is good.” 

“But what does it mean for us?” Billie finally looks at her. 

She sets herself down on the ground beside William’s chair. “That ten years has turned into eight.” 

Billie curses. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I am not.”

William frowns but sighs, letting his hands fall into his lap. “At least I know I’ll be seeing Mikey again. And I’ll finally get to meet his brother and his old friends. And his grandmother, he spoke a lot of her. She’s there, isn’t she?” 

Regret nods. “She’s a lovely woman. You’ll love her. She takes care of the band well. The Leader especially. She will care for the Bassist. And for you, William. I’m sure the Bassist will speak much of your ailment.” 

“The ‘ailment’ that is all your-” he cuts off again with a cough, “-fault.” He scowls at her and she stands. 

  
“I will visit again, on the day…”

William sends her a glare but she simply walks away, her body disappearing.

“I’m scared, Billie,” William whispers. 

“Of course you are, Will. You’re dying,” he says. 

“No, no, not that. I’ve known that for a while. No, I’m scared of what’ll happen to Gabe when I die.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really think the man that was willing to trust a stranger and a group of mafioso to find me, the man that married me the instant I asked, despite us both being teenagers, the man that has taken care of me as I’ve descended further and further. Do you think that man would give me up that fast.” He wipes at his eyes. “I’m scared that he’s going to do something bad when I go. He won’t want me to leave alone.”

“He’ll try and follow you,” Billie states. 

“Yes,” William says, frowning. “Can… can you stop him? And make sure everyone else looks after him?”

Billie crouches down and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Of course, William.”

He smiles. “Thank you, Billie. Make sure you cry at my funeral.”

Billie cracks a smile and shakes his head. “Sure thing, kid.” 

* * *

**January 2020**

Gabe wakes up to William screaming. And then coughing. His coughs are thick and wet. Gabe sits up as William coughs liquid up, the stuff spilling out of his mouth and dripping onto their bed covers. Gabe flicks the lamp on and then his heart stops as he sees red. Red on the sheets, on the pillow, down William’s chin and on his lips. 

Gabe does everything he can not to throw up. He reaches for his phone, calls an ambulance, and carries William out of bed. The man doesn’t even seem to realise what’s going on. His eyes are glazed over. Gabe sets him in the wheelchair and pushes him through the apartment, picking up a pair of shoes for himself on the way out. He then pounds on Hayley’s door. She answers tiredly. 

“Gabe? What is…” Her eyes widen as she takes in William’s state. 

“I called an ambulance,” he says quickly. He’s not sure if she hears him but she still darts back inside and then returns with her phone, keys, shoes, and a hoodie.

“Take him downstairs. Give me your keys, you’ll need a sweater or you’ll freeze.” 

Gabe’s in the middle of saying that he doesn’t care when she rips the things out of his hands and pushes him and the wheelchair in the direction of the elevator. Taking it down, Gabe crouches, like he did that night over two months ago. He cups William’s face and looks into his eyes. Only now does it look like William’s coming back into consciousness. That must be a good sign. He’s also stopped coughing up blood. 

“Hey, baby.”

William groans. “I-I don’t… I don’t feel well.” 

Gabe lets out a choked up laugh. “That-that’s ‘cause you’re not well, Will.” The elevator dings. “There’s an ambulance coming and Hayley’s coming too.”

William softly nods his head and then sags in the wheelchair. Gabe’s heart pounds in his chest as he pushes William through the lobby to the front. He doesn’t want to risk William outside so he told the operator to have the paramedics meet them in the lobby. 

Hayley soon joins them, forcing Gabe into the sweater and crouching in front of William, pushing the boy to sit up and looking him over, his eyes and checking his temperature, his reflexes and reactions. 

“G-G…” Gabe leans over and kisses the top of William’s head. 

  
“It’s gonna be okay, baby,” he says as he rubs his shoulders. 

The paramedics get there quickly and are even faster as they get William outside and into the ambulance. Gabe and Hayley ride with him, Gabe holding the older boy’s hand while Hayley answers questions. She knows everything she needs to and has no problems with answering the questions, soon enough being left to wrap her arms around Gabe in comfort. 

Before they get to the hospital, William begins to mumble and Gabe leans forward. 

“What is it, baby?”

“I… I love you…” 

Gabe bites down harshly on his lip and then nods. 

“I love you too, baby.” He squeezes William’s hand tightly. 

They wheel William into the hospital and he disappears from sight. Hayley leads him to the waiting room where he curls up into a ball and waits. 

* * *

“Gabe… Gabe, wake up,” Hayley gently whispers in his ear. He blinks his eyes open and looks up to see a doctor standing over him. 

“You are Mr Beckett’s husband, I assume.” 

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. His whole body shakes as he waits. 

“I’m sorry…”

That’s all he needs. He crumbles, tears flooding into his eyes. 

“We did everything we could, but it wasn’t enough. He’s gone.” 

He sobs loudly and harshly and a woman who’d been waiting for another doctor to come back jumps. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the old man who watches with sad eyes or the nurse who’d been complaining about the late shift freezing and watching him absolutely break down. 

Hayley wraps his arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder. He feels tears soak his sweater. 

“I… I could… I could have…” 

“No, Gabe…. No… no… no. Don’t say things like that.”

“I need to call my mom,” he mutters. She hands him his phone and he dials his mother’s number with shaky fingers. 

**“Gabe? What are you doing calling this early?”**

Gabe hiccups and lets out another sob before speaking. “He’s gone… mom. I… mommy, please… I need you…”

Her breath catches and she tells him she is but he just starts to whine and curls even tighter. He closes his eyes and only opens them when he hears his mother’s voice, murmuring for him. 

“Sweetie, look at me.”

“Mommy,” he mumbles and she takes him in her arms. 

“Come on, baby. Come home.” 

He can’t stand or move so they put him in a wheelchair. It’s a stupid, hospital issue one, so it looks a whole heap different than the one William had, so he’s thankful. He’s still sobbing, curled up. He’s gently helped out of the wheelchair and into a car, and he thinks he sees Hayley slide in next to him, holding his hand, squeezing it tight. 

* * *

William blinks his eyes open and curses everything. Because the sky is grey and there, standing in front of him, is Fear. She smiles at him and the look he gives her is downright murderous. He’s full of anger and hate and sorrow. And she has the audacity to smile. 

“You smile again and I’ll fucking gut you,” he snarls at her. “I promise you.” 

In the distance, he hears a song, a parade, and he stands. “That’s where I’m supposed to go,” it’s not a question, it’s a statement. He begins to walk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my it's real sad boy hour up in here 
> 
> Mix on Spotify (missing one song) - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2z4wlXMALQjRqbJwMrPVo0?si=eCR08wsuQWWO7J0vj58d9Q
> 
> Mix on Youtube (has that one song (Attention Reader by Pency Prep)) - https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLNsyIFmYjAfqEtb9s5H3qcULCn9vmKPMK
> 
> Songs for this chapter   
Human - The Killers  
Desert Song - My Chemical Romance


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not late, you are
> 
> but like, sorry for taking so long. i've been a little distracted
> 
> hope you enjoy

**January 2020**

William walks towards the sounds of music. What he sees is a parade, striding towards him. A float covered in red flowers. That’s where the music is coming from. He stands, in the middle of the road, as the parade comes closer. And then it stops. The music cuts off and one of the five band members clambers off it, running towards William. 

And he recognises him. It’s Mikey. Mikey is running at him. 

Of course. That makes absolute sense. He’s the Bassist. There’s a fucking bass guitar hanging from a strap slung over his shoulder. He swings the bass behind them and hugs William tight. 

“Fuck! William!” He cups William’s face with his hands. “I knew you were dying, but… so soon…” He bites his lip. 

  
“It’s okay, Mikey…” William tells the guy, but it doesn’t feel okay. 

**“William,” ** Mother War’s voice comes from behind him and so he turns and shoots her a harsh glare. 

“You know her?” Mikey asks quietly. William nods. 

**“He is one of your generals.”**

William splutters. “Wait, what? But you said ' _ soldier'! _ You didn’t say anything about-”

“We couldn’t explain everything, dear William,” Fear says. Mikey raises his eyebrows as William spins on his heels and snarls back at her. 

  
“I said don’t smile at me,” he hisses. “This is your fault.” 

Her lips turn downward and she lowers her head. “I will leave you to explain this to our leaders. It was nice to see you again, Bassist.” 

Mikey doesn’t even acknowledge her presence. William gives him a grateful nod once Fear has taken Mother War’s hand and led her away. 

“Come on…” Mikey nods towards the float. “I need to introduce you and you need to explain…” He frowns. 

William follows Mikey and Mikey even helps William up onto the float. Despite not being sick anymore, Mikey still feels like he has to take care of William. Will doesn’t mind all that much.

“A friend, Mikey?” A short boy asks. He looks around the same age as William. “Nice,” he follows up when Mikey nods a yes.

“Hi,” a softer voice pipes up. William looks over to see a white-haired man standing there, smiling. He looks to be in his mid-twenties. He also looks familiar. It only takes him a moment to figure out why the guy looks so familiar when Mikey stands next to him. 

It’s Mikey’s elder brother, Gerard.

“Hey, I’m William,” William introduces.

“Gerard,” the white-haired man says, confirming William’s thoughts. 

“Guys, this is the guy I rescued from a kidnapping,” Mikey tells them. The short guy claps loudly. 

“Awesome. What you doin’ down here?”   
  


“He was sick…” Mikey trails off. William shrugs and another man with wild, curly hair gives him a sad look. Mikey then turns to him. “So… what did Fear mean?”

William bites the inside of his cheek. How can he explain? Why couldn’t Fear have just… told him? No, she has to make it hard on him. 

“Well… during that kidnapping, Fear visited me…”

“In the living world?” A blond, burly man asks. The whole band has assembled in front of him. They begin to sit and he does as well, nervous to speak in front of so many strangers about his life story. He nods a yes. 

“She told me about the black parade and that I was a soldier and some other bullshit. And… she told me to look after you,” he says the last sentence while gazing at Mikey. “And… I knew you were going to die on Halloween…” 

Mikey’s eyes widen. “Wh-”

“We were told the prophecy.”

“We?” Shorty asks, tilting his head. 

“There are three of us soldiers…” 

Gerard keeps glancing down at his hands when he says, soldier. There has to be a reason, but he can’t figure it out. 

“We met at a Green Day concert. You remember the day Gabe proposed to me?” Mikey nods. “The night before, I went to the concert, met the other two soldiers, and Mother War, curse her, told me we would die within the next ten years after you.”

The others by him cast their gazes downwards. At least they’d been ignorant of their fate until after their deaths. 

“So, knowing I had limited time, I asked Gabe to marry me over the phone, he turned up at my house, and the next day we’re out getting rings.” William smiles a little. 

“Who are the other two?” Mikey asks quietly. 

“Uh…” William bites his lip. 

“Tell me, Will!” Mikey crawls over and grasps William’s coat, which is similar to the rest but unique. 

“Lindsey and Billie,” William mutters quietly but Mikey hears him and drops William. He then shuffles back and into the arms of the curly-haired man.  _ Ray _ the voice in his head tells him. Mikey had told him about the boy he’d shared his first kiss with, the boy he’d been in love with for years and years. 

“No, no, no, why them?” Mikey whispers with a horrified expression.

Ray runs his hands through Mikey’s hair. “It’ll be okay. Ten years, right?” He looks over at William. William bites his lip. 

“At Mikey’s funeral, Regret visited us. She said we were ahead of schedule.” He turns his gaze downward. “So, eight years at most.” 

Mikey breaks down.

* * *

**March 2020**

_ And Sleep, just sleep. _

Gabe hears the echo in his ears. He sighs, getting out of bed and looking out the window. It’s different to the one he’d been looking out for almost a year now. No, this one is the one he’d been looking out as a child. His parents' house. 

_ The hardest part is letting go of your dreams _

Gabe scowls. A stupid song. It’s just a stupid song stuck in his head. He places his fingers on the glass, splayed out. It’s cold. He breathes on the glass and his warm breath fogs up part of it. Using his finger, he draws a frowning face. 

_ So shut your eyes, kiss me goodbye, and sleep _

_ Just sleep _

He covers his ears, stalking away from the window and down the hall to the bathroom. He stands in the entrance for a few moments before walking in and avoiding his reflection. He showers quickly and as he’s drying his hair, he avoids the mirror again. 

“Gabe, are you up?” His mom’s voice calls out. 

“Yes,” he calls back, subdued. 

The day drags on. Billie had told him to take off as much time as he needed. He’s getting sick of sitting in his room all day. So he puts on a pair of shoes - not the ones he wore that night, those sitting in the back of his closet in his apartment - and goes out. He should go back to his apartment. He should decide either to sell it and find somewhere else or move back in. He can’t live with his parents forever. 

He walks to the nearby park and sits on a sad little bench. There’s hardly anyone out, the thin layer of snow and the icy wind deterring everyone away. 

_ And through it all. How could you cry for me? _

He hears the singing again and it feels closer this time, more… real.

_ 'Cause I don't feel bad about it. So shut your eyes, kiss me goodbye, and sleep _

He scrunches up his nose in confusion and looks around. It sounds as if someone’s singing right beside him. 

_ Just sleep _

He glances to his left and sees him. Sitting right next to him - Gabe hadn’t even noticed the guy sit down - is a white-haired man, singing the song that’s been stuck in Gabe’s head since he woke up this morning. The white-haired man isn’t old, no. You’d think that, wouldn’t you? With the cane and the white hair, you’d assume an old man. 

The white-haired man looks older than Gabe, sure, but, at most, he could be in his late twenties. And he wears an odd set of clothes. An old, Napoleonic military coat, black with silver buttons and white stripes across the front. He wears black skinny jeans and military boots and he’s smiling, softly, one hand wrapped tight around his cane. 

“Hi,” he greets softly. He has an otherworldly presence. Gabe doubts he’s even human. Or, at least, not a mortal one. 

“Hey?” Gabe responds, somewhat confused. If this is an otherworldly being, Gabe has no idea why he’s speaking to him. 

“What brings you out into the cold?” The man asks. 

“Needed to get out,” Gabe lowers his head. The man simply hums in understanding and begins to sing again, gentle and soft. 

_ A drink for the horror that I'm in. For the good guys, and the bad guys. For the monsters in our beds. _

_ Three cheers for tyranny, Unapologetic apathy. 'Cause there ain't no way that I'm coming back again. _

_ And through it all. How could you cry for me? _

_ 'Cause I don't feel bad about it. So shut your eyes, kiss me goodbye. And sleep... _

_ Just sleep… _

Gabe blinks his eyes open, the sun lower in the sky. Did he fall asleep? How could he fall asleep? He feels warm, despite the snow softly fluttering into his hair and catching on his eyelashes. He’s lying on someone, head resting on their shoulder. He wishes it was William. But it isn’t.

“You’re awake?” He moves his head quickly, eyes landing on the white-haired stranger from before. He’s still got that ethereal glow, lips turned into a soft smile. “I hope you slept well. You seemed exhausted before.” He lets out a small laugh before brushing off his pants and coat. “You can keep that, by the way. You looked cold.” 

Gabe gives him a confused look and the man aims his gaze down. Draped down Gabe’s front was a black coat, similar to the one the white-haired man wore, yet slightly different. The man stands, leaning heavily on his cane. 

“I’ll be seeing you again, Gabe Saporta.” 

Gabe startles. He never introduced himself. How does he…?   
  


“Who are you?” Gabe whispers. 

  
“You may call me the Leader,” the same small smile from before surfaces on the white-haired man’s face. “You’re wondering how I knew your name? For now, shall we leave that as a secret? It’ll be better that way.” 

Gabe frowns and the man laughs. The Leader. What kind of name is that? He doesn’t ask though. He only has one question left. 

“What’s that song you were singing?”

“What was it called?” The Leader asks, tilting his head with a knowing smirk. 

“Yeah…”

“Sleep. It’s that simple.” He straightens himself, bows ever so slightly, and strides away, his cane hitting the ground loudly with every few steps he took. A rhythm formed out of it. Before Gabe can stand, he hears a soft whisper in his ear. 

_ And I can't, I can't ever wake up. _

* * *

Ryan tries not to wake Brendon with his coughing, but it’s hard. He’s scared. He’s scared to fucking death, which is far too ironic considering the situation. 

“How long, Pepe?”

The skeleton in military dress shrugs. He doesn’t say much. 

“Fat lot of good you are,” he hisses and muffles another cough with a hand towel. It comes away red and he scowls at it. He looks back at Pepe, who holds out a clock. “Too small,” Ryan says automatically. And then he thinks again and adds to his words. “And it’s backwards.”

He still takes it and wraps it in the slightly bloody hand towel. He then hides it in the back cupboard. 

Pepe nods to him, and in response, Ryan simply places both his hands on Pepe’s hat and pulls down in front of the skeleton’s face. He can never read the skeleton’s expressions, but he knows that when Pepe pats Ryan on the head, he’s doing it in an endearing way. 

Despite this, he curses Pepe. If it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t be in this mess. 

He leaves the skeleton in the bathroom and hops back in bed with Brendon, curling his arms around the other man’s waist. 

“I love you…” He whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanna see some love for poor ol' Pepe in the comments, guys. 
> 
> if you don't know who Pepe is, which is doubtful but still, he's the little marcher guy on the front cover of the black parade album
> 
> backwards clock is a reference to nine in the afternoon
> 
> the song is Sleep, obviously.
> 
> Songs for this chapter   
Sleep - My Chemical Romance  
Nine In The Afternoon - Panic! At The Disco


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while, i know...
> 
> likely stagnant updates from now on, but we're in the home stretch so the end is nigh
> 
> on another note, i started university and i started a new fic for another fandom. check it out :)
> 
> i'll fix the spacing later

**June 2020**

No matter where he goes, the Leader usually finds him. Gabe would think it was creepy if it wasn’t for the calm, inhuman aura the man possessed. The Leader would usually lull him into sleep if he ever looked exhausted from a rough night. 

“You think it’s funny, stalking someone?” Gabe finally asks him. The Leader seems to hold back a small laugh. 

“It’s not like I want to,” he says. Gabe’s face twists into one of confusion. 

“Excuse me?”

“I’d leave you be if I could, but my duty states that I cannot.”

Gabe breathes heavily, throwing his hands in the air. “What the  _ fuck _ does that mean?”

The Leader giggles and waves. “I made a promise. Have fun at work,” he waves again and walks off. As soon as he goes around the corner, Gabe rushes to follow him, only to see that he’s disappeared from sight. 

“What the fuck?” Gabe mutters. 

* * *

**August 2020**

“Wanna go on an adventure?” Is the first thing she says when he opens his door. Ryan raises his eyebrows. Standing there is Kitty, with Jimmy hanging over her shoulder. He glances back inside, where Brendon is wrapped up in a video game of some sort. 

“What kind?”

“A  _ completely legal  _ one,” Kitty says and he rolls his eyes and steps away from the door, letting them enter. They glance around at his house as they stand in the doorway. Ryan walks over to Brendon. 

“I’m going out with these bastards, you gonna be okay at home by yourself?” Brendon blinks at him and then looks over at Kitty and Jimmy, taking the two of them in. 

“Oh…” He bites his lip and then smiles. “Sure, go have fun.” 

Ryan chuckles a little, runs towards their shared room, and tugs on a pair of boots with a little bit of effort. He then snags a scarf and, after a second of thought, snatches his hat off the bookshelf. He stuffs it on his head and runs out, looking at the punk duo. 

“Ready, kiddo?” Jimmy asks and Ryan shrugs. 

“Whatever, you weirdos.” 

* * *

_Fun._ _Adventure_.

Okay, so it was fun. So it was an adventure. But he didn’t expect that they’d be robbing a fucking bank. Well… not quite. Simply put, they went in the back and snuck off with some money. Okay, okay, so that is what robbing a bank sorta means, but it was sorta more like Kitty and Jimmy had people who just let them in. Ryan isn’t sure what he expected, honestly. 

And then they went joyriding and then someone, Takahiro he thinks the guy’s name was, teaches him how to ride a motorcycle. Ryan glides down the highway as if it’s second nature, Taka, Kitty, and Jimmy following him. The moon hangs high overhead. Ryan can see Pepe out of the corner of his eye as the four of them look up to the sky, the top of the hill silent. 

“Where are we?” Ryan asks. Kitty shrugs.

“High up,” she says. “The moon is beautiful, though.” 

Ryan smiles. “It is…”

* * *

“What the fuck is Pepe doing, peering over the Moon’s shoulder like that?” Kitty curses, running her fingers through Jimmy’s short hair. He shrugs, gazing up at her from where he is lying with his head in her lap. 

“It’s like with Mother War following Lindsey around,” Jimmy huffs. “I don’t know what that witch and those brats are doing, but they should fuckin’ stop.”

She nods. “Stop dragging mortals into this battle.”

“Not even just mortals, obviously. Can’t they just fuckin’ wait?” He sits up and she moves her hands, patting his head and then kissing his cheek. 

“If he’s here, then that means that they’ve done something,” Kitty hisses as she stands, brushing off her pants that are littered with stars. “So, how ‘bout we do something, yeah, Time?” She pulls him to his feet and he gives her a smirk. 

“Of course, Space.” 

* * *

**October 2020**

“Thank you for coming over, Gabe…” Donna says and Gabe smiles at her. They’re both sitting on the ground, sorting through old photos. A lot of them are of Mikey and they make Gabe’s heartache. 

One shows Pete and Mikey, seventeen years old, grinning like idiots. Another has Mikey at his highschool graduation, and yet another beside a burly guy with blond hair. Bob, he remembers Mikey saying. Another is with a much younger Mikey, only like fourteen, beside an older boy with curly hair. The curly-haired boy is in a fair few older photos, alongside a younger version of Bob. 

“Who’s that?”

“Oh!” She gingerly takes the photo from his hands and smiles down at it. “That’s Ray. He was originally Gerard’s best friend…” 

“I remember Mikey mentioning Ray… But… who’s Gerard?” 

Donna smiles sadly. “Of course, Mikey probably never mentioned him by name. But, Gerard was his elder brother, who died when he was fourteen. Mikey was eleven. Poor babies, both of them…” She wipes her eyes. “Here,” she holds up a photograph. It’s even older than the others. “This is Gerard. A few months before he died.”

Gabe looks down and then freezes up. Two boys are depicted. One is Mikey, with his glasses skewered and his hair choppy, while the dark haired boy next to him has a small smile while he hugs Mikey close. Gerard. 

Or…

“Me…” His voice is quiet, sad. Gabe carefully keeps his head straight, slightly moving his gaze so it’s made known that he heard.

“Can you give me a minute?” Gabe asks Donna and she nods. He rises from the ground and walks outside, leaning against the wall. Beside him, The Leader settles himself. 

“Hey, Gabe…” 

“You?” 

The Leader reaches over and places a pale hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “Yeah…”

“You’re Gerard? Mikey’s brother?” 

The Leader nods. “I am…”

“Why-” 

“I’ll explain, soon enough. But… I know I’m in no place to make requests, but please take that photo home…” The Leader pleads and Gabe sighs softly. The Leader looks so desperate, so Gabe obliges and asks if he can have a copy of the photograph. She asks for one of William and he tells her he’ll bring her a copy of one of his own, one with Mikey in it. 

He goes back to his parents' house, The Leader’s unsure strides following a few paces behind. Gabe hears the cane hit the pavement loudly, clinking in a continuous beat. 

He locks himself inside his room and takes out the photo, setting it on the bed. 

“What? So you’re Mikey’s brother’s ghost? Haunting  _ me _ for some reason?”

The Leader settles himself on the window sill. “Not… quite… I am Mikey’s brother, no doubt about it. I  _ am _ Gerard. And in a way, I am somewhat a ghost. But… it’s different. I am no longer… human as one would say. I am not a ghost of a human past, I am not a lingering soul, stuck on earth. I died and became an entity beyond human.” 

“You didn’t answer me… why are you here?” 

“You never asked. But I will answer now. My purpose here is to watch over you.” 

“Why? Why me?” He asks, flopping on the bed and looking over at The Leader, no, Gerard. Gerard props his elbows on his thighs and then his head in his palms. 

“I don’t know. Why us? You, I do know. To an extent. It is, oddly enough, not me, The Leader, that this revolves around. No. It revolves around The Bassist. His moves dictate who leads and who follows.”

“The… Bassist?”

Gerard chuckles. “You know. Who is surrounded by tragedy?” 

Gabe’s eyes widen. “Mikey?!”

“Yes… Although, none of those deaths or tragedies were  _ his  _ fault. Not even I am sure of who is at fault. He asked me to look after you, though. So I am here, looking after you,” he smiles. And then his “Do not blame him for William’s death. Nor yourself. Stab fate if you wish, but do not blame Michael.” 

Gabe runs his hands through his hair. “Dammit…” He then pauses. “Is… Is William there?” Gerard sighs slowly. 

“Are you sure you’re ready to hear the answer?” He asks slowly. 

Gabe’s about to retort that ‘of course he is’ but he can’t help but think. Is he? He doesn’t know… Gerard ponders him for a moment before he gazes out the window. 

“Death and life are vastly different, you know? The afterlife is dark, grey. My job, one day, will be to lead it to salvation. It’s a long time coming.” The sky is darkening, a thunderstorm rolling in. A rumble of thunder makes Gabe jolt up as Gerard continues. “You may not be aware, but destiny is no longer what people say it is. The afterlife isn’t eternal peace, meadows and sunshine. It’s a crumbling skyline and a sad smile. A parade, marching on until it finally reaches the end.” 

“But… William?”

“There are many marchers, Gabe. But only one soldier that yearns for one of the living.” 

Gabe’s eyes widen and he jumps to his feet. Gerard reaches out with his cane and knocks Gabe back onto the bed. 

“You should be in no hurry to reunite with him, Gabe. There’s no need. In time, you will join us. Unfortunately, I cannot keep you from death’s clutches for as long as I wish to.” He frowns. “Value your life, it’s what I should’ve done. You saw Mikey, yes? He found new friends, he didn’t isolate himself or attempt to join me. He had to start from scratch, and he did, over and over again. He found William. Please, value your life. Like he did.” He places both hands on the cane, pushing into the ground. “Know this, humans value life when they realise that there’s not enough of it. Time is always better spent when someone realises there’s a deadline. The day before you’re supposed to hand in a project is the day you do the most work. So… I’ll repeat my original sentiment. I cannot keep you from death’s clutches for as long as I wish.” 

Gerard stands and stalks over to the bed. “I will send Michael and William your love, Gabe. And I will keep watch over you, as I promised. In return, I expect you to live your life as you should. As they want you to. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.” He scowls. 

* * *

Donna settles on her bed, sighing. The old photograph of Gerard and Mikey is in her hand. Another few are spread across the bed. One has her mother, Elena, beside a much younger Gerard and a baby Mikey. 

“Do you think they’re waiting for me?”

Fear sits on the ground, her back up against the bed, her knees pulled to her chest. “Perhaps.” 

“I hope they are,” Donna says as she strokes her baby boy’s face. Gerard looked so happy. She remembers him grinning a wide smile and hugging her tight after the photo was taken. “Fear? Why do you linger by me?” 

“I have to…” Fear holds her hands to her face. “Mother told me to.” 

“I dislike this mother of yours. She’s cruel.” 

“She’s not all bad.” Fear sets her hands back down on her knees, steeling herself. Sorry, Leader. 

“Nevertheless, I believe you deserve better,” Donna mumbles as she reaches over and runs her hand through Fear’s hair. Fear glances up at her through the corner of her eye. 

“I don’t…” Fear slowly rises, reaching out to place her hand on Donna. She doesn’t want to do this. Donna is so nice, kind, and she’s been through so much hell. But she has to, or mother will be upset. The Leader will be upset by this, which makes her stomach tighten and her hand freeze midair. But it’s enough of a pause for the harsh hit of a cane to knock her hand away. 

Donna jumps in surprise as she watches a cloaked figure hit Fear’s hand away with their cane. 

“L-Leader!” Fear exclaims. “What are you doing here? On earth?” 

Donna catches the sight of a few strands of white hair. The cane and hair remind her of an older man. She stays where she is as the cloaked man places his cane back on the ground. Fear holds her skirt in her hands. 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers. “It’s just… Mother…” 

The man steps forward, gently setting his hand on her shoulder. He leans in and whispers something softly. Fear’s eyes light up and she jumps on the older man, squeezing him tight around the middle. Patting her head, the old man loosely hugs her back before letting her go. Fear spins around, throwing herself at Donna. Donna places her hand on Fear’s head gently, hushing her. 

“Thank you…” Donna hears Fear murmur. “Thank you, mama…”

Before Donna can react, Fear has disappeared. The old man turns away, reading himself to leave when Donna reaches forward and yanks his hood down. The cloak comes away to reveal a military uniform, an old-style one from the Napoleonic times. The man freezes, stiff. He then slowly turns and Donna realises. 

This man is not old. No, this man is young. He’s barely an adult. His hair is ashen, with his eyes, in contrast, being a bright green and wide. His hand is turning white from where he’s clutching his cane.

Donna knows this man, she’s sure of it. He looks so familiar. She doesn’t know why she recognises him. But he is. He’s looking down and her hands shake as she follows her gaze to look at them. Clutched tightly in her hands is the old photo of Michael and Gerard. 

She gulps as she looks back up at him. His eyes are glassy and his lips quiver. 

Oh… 

“Baby…” She whispers and he stumbles forward and into her arms. Her baby. Her baby boy. 

“Mama…” He sobs, clinging to her, not like the adult he is now but like the child he was then. Her Gerard has returned. She’s not sure how, but he’s in her arms. 

“Is this a dream?” She asks and he chokes on a laugh. Her heart soars at the sound. It’s deeper and full of regret and disbelief, but it’s his. 

“No…” He tells her. “It’s not.” He raises his head and looks her in the eye. “I promise you, I am here. I am…” He places her hand on his cheek. “ _ Here. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter
> 
> Joker And The Thief - Wolfmother  
The A Team - Ed Sheeran  
scaPEGoat - SawanoHiroyuki[nZk]

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, tell me what you think in the comments. 
> 
> Looking for a beta.


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